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A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


ELIZABETH 


BY 

w. 


J 

R LOMAX. 






F. TENNYSON NEELY. 

PUBLISHER, 

LONDON. NEW YORK. 


2nd 


Coptic COPIES BECEWEO- 

1898. - ■ ^ g- q 




Copyright, 1898, 
by 

F. Tennyson Neely, 
in 

United States 
and 

Great Britain. 

All Eights Reserved. 



» ^ 

* « « 


Dedicated 
to tlic 

Man of Letters 

Who one year ago asked for the 
** Womanly Woman 
in fiction* 



A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


CHAPTEE I. 

Boswell Thornton was not a happy man. A moment 
before he had started from his slumbers with the dazed 
expression of one who has overslept. He was alone and 
the room was still. From between the shutters a line of 
light fell upon the rug beside the bed. It was ten 
o’clock A.M., but the apartment was in silence and 
shadow. 

He rubbed his eyes, thrust a hand through his thick 
chestnut hair, yawned and stretched his limbs. He had 
slept soundly. He had not heard his wife as she passed 
out. He preferred the face of his wife at the breakfast 
table to a sloppy cup of coffee administered by a careless 
servant, which would be the result of his indolence. 

With a sigh he sprang out of bed, slipped from 
pajamas into a dressing-gown and sandals, and proceeded 
to fling open the windows of the stuffy bedroom. 

Ugh! what would he not give for a sparkling log Are 
such as burned on the old hearth down in Virginia by 


8 


A CONSUL TO CHINAo 


day and by night! Under pressure of the moment he 
made a gesture of disdain toward the stiff copper pipes of 
the radiator. 

The snow, as it fell, recalled varied sensations, re- 
minded him of happy boyhood. There was no doubt or 
imagination about that. His had been a happy boyhood. 
The housetops, the cornices and chimneys — the Virginia 
hills — the Potomac Flats were all under a cover of white. 
From a nebulous shroud the monument shaft, the city 
steeples rose as slender threads penetrating the blue of 
the skies. He was looking straight across the river, 
beyond the Virginia shore — how broad and beautiful! 
He knew the life of a country gentleman — none better — 
with horses and guns, and dogs at one’s heels. If there 
was anything in life he hated it was cramped narrowness. 
Was the rest of his life to be spent four flights up, in a 
partitioned flat, with its cheap and confined surround- 
ings? His mother and his grandmother and his great- 
grandmother before him had used the attic rooms for 
rubbish — he had been born to a spacious mansion of 
colonial build, with men servants at his command, and 
on a morning such as this, a team or a cutter at the door 
drawn by matchless thoroughbreds. His great-grand- 
mother could not help him to-day, however. Nothing 
could be changed to-day. A few months hence, when 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


9 


he made money he would know how to spend it — he 
would have the old place back and more. This fine 
November morning he must shave in a chilly room — spoil 
one's day at the beginning. Although less than ten minutes 
were required for the transformation scene, it seemed an 
eternity. 

In times gone by he had rung up a servant with 
hot water — now, he must make another trip for it — after 
his cold plunge. 

Ugh! a slight gash on his left cheek has spoiled his 
beauty for the day. Light never right. After a hurried 
search for court plaster, he cuts a strip and puts it on 
and then proceeds to pull on a pair of lusterless boots. 
As he does this he catches sight of his own puckered, 
dissatisfied face in the mirror. It was not the face of a 
handsome man. But was it possible to look well with 
everything to harass, everything mean about one ? He 
felt miserably out of place in this cheap bedchamber 
with its flimsy curtains, thin wall papers, and unsheathed 
gas burners. He loathed poverty with the fervor of a 
sensitive nature reared to directly opposite conditions. 
In this confined space the smell and din of the kitchen 
intruded — the clatter of dishes, the movements of the 
servant rose above the spluttering sound of the frying 
pan, and the wheedling hum of 


10 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


** Baptist, Baptist is my name, 

My name’s written on high. 

I hope to live and die the same; 

My name’s written on high. ** 

^‘Jemima/’ called he. 

A profoundly big, profoundly black woman moved 
along the narrow passage in response. As he had saun- 
tered forth a year or more previous, with an eye to the 
requirements of his modest establishment, he had en- 
countered this familiar figure in one of the black belts of 
the city, and with the Southern man’s innate tolerance 
for the garrulous talk of the race, he had listened with 
patience to her delighted greeting. 

‘^Don’ yo’ kno’ ole Christy’s gal, Marse Ross? Don’ 
yo’ kno’ Mima what rub ole miss’ feet? Dat slick yaller 
rascal Barnaby ’suade me ter marry, jine han’ an’ heart 
wid him — den fotch me here an’ drapt me.” 

A bright idea broke through the tufts of wool that 
supported a smart sailor hat. 

^'Yo’ an’ Miss Mercy wantin’ help, Marse Ross?” 

So Jemima had been installed in the small kitchen, 
much to her gratification — after a series of driftings 
about among strangers — and Roswell Thornton and his 
wife were prepared to be amused and agreed with her 
when she declared it was ‘"jes like a doll-baby house,” 
and that further furniture was not required. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


11 


it late, Mima?” he now asked. 

'^Gwine on ter ten, Marse Ross,” answered the woman, 
addressing the man she had known from childhood with 
the term of affectionateness still extant, but rapidlj^ pass- 
ing. '^Miss Mercy, she gwine ter market long go.” 

‘"If she has you needn’t give me rice cakes for break- 
fast — unless you want a corpse on your hands.” 

"'I’ll fry yo’ a bit of steak.” 

"Fry! Say broil, for decency’s sake. Bring me a 
tenderloin dressed with lemon and parsley, a cup of good 
coffee, rolls, a jug of rich cream — Jersey cream, mind 
you, and,” he called soberly after her, ‘"Jemima, a dish 
of strawberries with the bloom and fragrance of the ber- 
ries you used to pick in Miss Elizabeth’s garden in May. ” 

The woman was shuffling off, with pleased backward 
glances. 

‘"He wuz alwuz full o’ pranks,” she said aloud. ""He 
want dem berries so bad I got ter git on de wheel an’ 
fotch ’em from Flurrid3", I s’pose. Wonder ef dey do 
grow dar nigh on ter Chris’mus? An’ what he gwine 
ter say ef he cotch me er whisken’ off on his bike?” 

After beakfast Roswell Thornton went into the library 
— a small room like the rest. It was their only reception 
room and bore traces of a woman’s refined, if not costly 
taste. A piano of fine make filled one corner. The book- 


12 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


cases were draped with silkolene of quiet tone. A por- 
trait or two, some steel engravings, quaint objects in 
porcelain, bronze, silver, and glass were scattered here 
and there. A reproduction in oil of Bouguereau’s ""Our 
Lady of The Angels” hung to one side, above a splen- 
did old bowl of Imira ware. 

As Boswell Thornton loitered here, the cigarette smoke 
curling above his head, his eye caught a few stray sheets 
of music, and near at hand a heavily sealed packet which 
he idly drew toward him. Its proportions were familiar 
— the blue letters conveying the publisher’s address sig- 
nificantly. Mercy’s last literary venture — one she had 
expended much time and care upon and read aloud to 
him from the copy. He shoved the parcel beneath a pile 
of magazines. It should not confront her on her return. 
Mercy had known a wonderful sort of success in both 
music and literature when she had not attached impor- 
^ tance to it, one way or the other — but as a means to an 
end — the folly of it ! She had better have married his 
brother Horace after all. Horace was born under the 
lucky star. In a fit of restlessness he crossed the floor 
and stood by the piano, where an old, a rare old violin 
lay in its case. 

""Jacque,” said he, touching the instrument, ""you 
and I seem to be quits. ” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


13 


He was silent for a time, looking at the violin with the 
compassionate tenderness we give to a human thing we 
love. don’t know how it is,” said he, ^ 'but some- 
thing seems to be the matter with me, Jacqueline.” The 
cigarette was still between his teeth. "All out of tune,” 
he mused, "a screw loose somewhere.” 

He dropped into a chair and for some time sat absorbed 
in not over-pleasant reflection. It was a relief when a 
ringing step and cheerful voice reached his ear. 

"How d’ye do. Boss? Scholarly, old man? We can't 
all be Du Mauriers and move a nation.” 

Koswell Thornton pushed aside the book which he 
had grasped to cover his mood, and smiling reached a 
chair — without rising — toward his brother. 

Both men were apart from the rank and file. Both 
handsome in that dark, lustrous, auburn style frequent 
in the South, and attractive when allied to polish, pride, 
poise and dignity of character. Koswell Thornton’s face 
was undoubtedly of the finest mold — clear cut, unlined, 
fresh and sweet to purity — if suggestive of either 
of physical or psychical nature weakness it Avas 
forgiven, perfection of beauty. His figure was alert, 
erect, tall, with broad shoulders, and no indication of 
lack of strength had intruded upon its fine lines. 

Horace Thornton had his full share of good looks, yet 


14 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


the auburn hue in his case was inclined to run to coarse- 
ness. His face was pleasant in expression, with some 
hard lines about the mouth and eyes. Of fine height, 
he stood his increased weight rather better than most 
men. 

‘'Obliged to study,’’ returned Roswell grimly, as his 
brother was seated, “to keep in touch with my immense 
clientage. What about your ball? Is it to come off?” 

“As soon as my lady can get the tints of the walls and 
tiles and her gowns to harmonize.” 

Horace Thornton had taken one of the few comfortable 
chairs and leisurely lighted a cigarette. It was not his 
nature to be leisurely, but he was cultivating repose 
along with other acquired tastes as his money grew. 

He was carefully dressed. A few years back he had 
been too much hurried to think whether this or that 
necktie suited, this or that hat or coat, or to stop and 
make a change if he had realized the difference. This 
morning, however, his features rose above the suit of sub- 
dued brown cheviot, pronounced and self-satisfied. 

“Ross,” said he suddenly, as he puffed while the 
cigarette smoke curled above two auburn heads, in ring 
after ring, “it seems to me you are not looking well.” 

“The same beastly cold,” said Roswell a little soberly. 
“I’ve had it for a year. I wanted to give Mercy a 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


15 


jeweled sword-pin last Christmas and went without a 
fire.’’ 

should say you had better have done without 
your overcoat all winter. I thought that building was 
steam-heated?” 

‘^So it is, but I had some notion of economy and went 
a block below some time ago.” 

^^Stars of Moses! What is it you two won’t be doing 
next? I hear Mercy imagines herself an authoress — she 
will never be a Harrison or a Kives, I can tell you. Her 
hair will be white and thin before her stories are taken 
up by society. I wish to heaven you were both more 
practical. Annette is artistic and she puts it to prac- 
tical use. She planned the house. I want you to see it. 
Come, go to lunch with me.” 

''I do not dispute the good taste of your wife, or her 
talents,” said Eoswell as he drew a deep sigh, ''but it’s 
easy enough to design a house with one of our best 
architects at one’s beck and call. As to luncheon, I had 
better go. I can tell one day what Jemima’s menu is to 
consist of the next. Ugh! Mercy hates this nasty flat — 
not room enough for a man to stretch his legs in — and 
the hammering bills, as much as I do, if the truth was 
told.” 

"Come. I want to talk with you. I see a prospect 


16 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


ahead. A pretty good thing. Moping here won’t mend 
matters or fit you for business. A man must keep a clear 
head.’’ 

‘‘It’s easy enough for you to keep a clear head and a 
stout heart too, for that matter, Horace. A man with a 
bank account from here to the Eiggs can always do that 
much. ” 

‘^Koss, you know I didn’t come here to crow over you. 
When you married Mercy you knew to a dot what your 
portion would be. ’ ’ 

Eoswell Thornton flushed hotly. 

had my practice and expectations from mamma — 
Mercy had every right to believe that Dr. Lloyd’s 
schemes would materialize and — we loved each 
other.” 

"^Oh, love is all right,” returned Horace Thornton, 
have not a word to say against love. ” This was an 
honest sentiment. ^‘But it is just as easy to marry a 
rich woman as a poor one.” 

‘‘Sometimes easier,” answered the younger brother 
loftily, “but my wife was not poor. She was entitled 
to a tidy little fortune — the estates were tangled up, it’s 
true. ‘Impoverished by the war,’ is an epigram too 
hideous for the living; it had better be reserved as an 
epitaph on the fcomb of such sufferers.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


11 

said Horace, stretching, ‘‘ii matters are bad, 
the sooner you get out of the whole thing the better.’’ 

‘"What whole thing?” 

""Not prepared to say under spur of the moment.” 

Horace drew forth his enameled cigarette case and 
courteously extended it to his brother. The sleigh bells 
were jingling in the streets below. 

""Jove!” said he, ""such a muss. I hate these early 
snows. Come, let’s go,” reaching for the top coat which 
he had with shrewd care placed near at hand. 

From the kitchen came sounds of wrangling — Jemima 
persuading the laundress she had made a mistake in 
presenting a weekly bill. 

Horace Thornton moved a chair and stumbled over 
some object obstructing the way. 

""Lucky you’ve no children here,” said he, in his 
matter-of-fact voice. Eoswell wheeled upon him. 

""For God’s sake,” said he vehemently, ""stop flaunt- 
ing your wealth and my deprivation in one breath. ’ ’ 

Horace had never seen his brother in this mood. 

""What are you thinking of, old man?” asked he. 
""Anybody would suppose I had a baker’s dozen. I 
didn’t mean to stir you up. Mercy would be a model 
mother; now Annette with all her charms is, I own, 
sadly fitted to pose in a nursery.” 


18 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


suppose the truth is I am getting old and crabbed/* 
said Koswell, appeased and smiling, as he adroitly turned 
the subject. "‘What news to-day?** 

“Annette manages to keep adrift. She finds that 
mamma intends to have another Sunday reception. In 
spite of this,** as a blank look settled over the face of 
Koswell, “I can*t afford to hang my head. I have made 
money and I intend other people shall recognize the fact. 
Tired to death of all this twaddle about the broken-down 
Southerner. I am going to have a swell affair, and you 
and Mercy must be present, of course. * * 

“Simply out of the question,** said Koswell, “if you 
mean Mercy is to receive with your wife.** 

“So you propose to hide yourself from the face of 
men, simply because Mercy hasn*t a pelisse or a frock as 
fine as the rest of the world. It*s ridiculous, Koss. You 
don’t know what you are doing. It*s important you 
should meet men of prominence, socially, I mean. No 
mushroom politician will be allowed in Annette’s select 
parlors, I venture to say.” 

“My dress suit made a trip to the steam dyer’s lately, ** 
said Koswell in a serio-comic way; “it does not have the 
odor of violets. No doubt you are ambitious to receive 
your kinsfolk in rags perfumed with benzine? I swear 
when I get into my dress coat these days, I*m reminded 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


19 


of the figure we stuffed to scare the crows away from 
mamma’s fields of grain.” 

‘'A false face, a bean pole from the garden, and one of 
f^ither’s silk hats battered in,” laughed Horace. 

'^And grandpa’s things — ruffled shirt, slick old coat, 
its tails flapping over the trousers thin at the knee and 
considerately tucked into a pair of cavalry boots. I 
would not have to tie on my false face, eh, Horace?” 

Horace answered by an empty laugh. Time was when 
troubles sat lightly on Boswell’s shoulders, but his heart 
was sore for Mercy to-day, and — Horace recognized it. 

‘'Now, Boss, ” said his brother, “stop fretting about 
Mercy. She’ll be all right. I have never seen her any- 
where that she was not perfectly well-dressed and up to 
the mark.” 

“Quiet of manner, voice, dress — thorough,” said 
Boswell. 

“To the tip of her toes,” said Horace. “Come, test my 
chef, and after luncheon we will see what my tailor can 
do to set you up.” 

“Not half a bad idea, old man,” said Boswell, pleased. 

Then Horace leaned forward and spoke in whispers. 

“I didn’t mean to give myself away, but between us. 
Ward has made a mess of it. They’ll never send him 
back — never upon earth. He has been recalled from San 


20 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Francisco. We must strike while the iron is hot. The 
Chinese government is the weakest and most fantastic in 
the world, but where labor is concerned they are a 
grand people. Besides, here is the chance you want — the 
chance to make a reputation for yourself. The House 
Foreign Affairs Committee still remember the reliable 
services of Hobson. He won the gratitude of American 
manufacturers and importers, by his vigorous efforts to 
expose and put a stop to the sale of bogus and adulter- 
ated American products in China. You can do as much 
as he — and there is going to be a change for the better 
in this service. ’ ' 

"‘What about a man’s social status? I understand that 
an American consul abroad is treated everywhere as a 
sort of illegitimate brother of the members of the regular 
diplomatic corps — is looked down on.” 

“That can’t be true. Boss. If it is, it should not be — 
consuls are as important as ambassadors, more so than 
their secretaries and attaches. They are indispensable 
factors between countries in commercial relations with 
each other. Besides, the point open to discussion in your 
case is, do you want to stand upon your feet?” 

“I know — I must get upon my feet or — commit suicide 
in some approved way. I had rather end it that way 
than wind up at Saint Elizabeth’s.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


21 


'"You look so mucli like it/’ replied Horace ran- 
corously. 

"You have never knov^n the degradation of genteel 
poverty/’ said Eoswell; "don’t waste pity on the man 
who goes to work and returns to his family with a dime 
or so in excess of what he expected in his pocket ; pity 
the wretch who looks upon an unpaid bill as a debt of 
honor and is humiliated to the earth when he cannot 
pay.” 

"Pretty bad, no doubt,” said Horace. "Have you 
see the madam lately?” he asked in an undertone as 
they groped their way along the dark passage. 

"Yes,” answered Eoswell in the same minor key, 
"but she said nothing of another entertainment.” 

"Wouldn’t, you know. Too independent. It’s dis- 
graceful the way mamma goes on,” returned Horace with 
a frown; "enough to make my father rise in his grave. 
Here,” calling his brother back a step or two and hand- 
ing him a lot of crumpled banknotes. "This may add to 
the respectability of the assembly. ” He closed his purse 
with a wrathful snap. "I doubt if a conglomerate of 
decayed men and women can be found in another decent 
room in this town. English say Americans entertain in 
their bedrooms — this comes precious near it.” 

"Mamma won’t touch this,” said Eoswell. 


23 


A CONSUL TO CHINA, 


‘'Make her take it.’* 

“I suppose you have tried to make her do a thing?’* 

“She must take it. Say anything you please — a 
legacy, a lottery-ticket — anything. I can’t have people 
say my mother resorts to the pawnshop in order to give 
parties to a lot of superannuated old fogies — perhaps 
lobbyists — that’s what it amounts to. If she has no 
family pride to maintain — I have. That’s the long and 
short of it.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Koswell. 

He closed the doors and they went into the street. The 
snow was rapidly melting. The brothers braced and 
straightened, and with a men-of-the-world air proceeded 
to step into a handsome brougham that stood awaiting 
Mr. Horace Thornton’s orders, before the door. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


23 


CHAPTEE n. 

Doubtless Roswell Thornton was justified in feeling 
discouraged. Try as he did to prevent it, his thoughts 
went back to the past and to the hopes he had believed 
to be easily realized. At the start, prosperity had 
seemed to smile on him, apart from the aid afforded by 
the income of his mother. His thoughts traveled back 
and lingered in spite of himself around those days of 
careless boyhood, of untrammeled young manhood. Pin 
money had been plentifully supplied during his college 
term and at the beginning of his career as a barrister. 
He had a rising reputation, and his love for Mercy had 
been approved by those for whose opinion he most cared. 
When his mother had decided upon establishing him in 
law at the capital of the United States, as she had alread3^ 
established her eldest son in trade, it was in no sordid 
way, but generously, as she did everything. He had 
led a life of apparent success, certainly a life of ease, in 
his sumptuous bachelor apartments. It was a sort of 
creed in his world at home that marriage increased the 
respectability, the importance of a man. Marriage had 


24 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


seemed in every way desirable. After repeated visits to 
bis sweetheart, the wedding day had been named. Well 
he remembered the day and the hour. It was a perfect 
June day. The air scintillant with the golden sunlight 
of summer — the caressing breezes sent straight from the 
heart of the old Blue Mountains. The scent of June’s 
richest roses filled the wide old mansion that looked its 
handsomest, bedecked and bedizened by both nature and 
art; the sunshine streaming over numberless guests, and 
presents, while delighted servants glided hither and 
yonder at one’s bidding. Mercy never looked fairer. 
Her dowry consisted of an incomplete trousseau, some 
old heirlooms left her by the great-grandmother for 
whom she had been named — a bit of mortgaged land in 
the Southwest — interest in a silent marble quarry — and a 
grand piano. It was not long ago. Two confident 
young hearts had beat high in anticipation of a happy 
future. What had it amounted to? Had they been 
unsuspecting, credulous fools, not to foresee some such 
sad result as the present? 

Koswell Thornton, senior, had been a decided man of 
affairs, besides a man of large properties. After the civil 
war he not only found himself hampered, but realized 
that under the new order of things it would be impossi- 
ble to resume a life of luxury. He quietly decided his 


A CONSUL TO CHINAo 


25 


course. His sons were placed at the University of Vir- 
ginia — his wife and himself would find a Western city 
more congenial for a time, both as to taste and business 
interests. In San Francisco speculation favored him at 
every turn. It enabled his widow later on to return to 
her estates and live quite up to former grandeur, if not 
to exceed it. There had been a tragedy. The mother 
returned to her boys wearing the weeds of a widow. 
Upon the failure of a bank in which Mr. Thornton had 
been largely an investor for other parties — eager to profit 
by his success — he had been shot down in the streets of 
San Francisco in broad daylight. It had been a 
cowardly action justly punished; his suspected murderer 
had been sentenced to confinement in the State peniten- 
tiary for life. Brilliant, stanch of dignity and of char- 
acter, Koswell Thornton, senior, had been the people’s 
choice to represent thein in the halls of Congress of the 
United States. Death deprived him of this doubtful 
honor, as it deprived his family of an undoubtedly 
indulgent husband and father. 

After this the boys were the mother’s care. *^Ma- 
dam Thornton” — a title that originated with her slaves 
and still clung to her — was generous and unselfish. Her 
pleasures bore no restriction from others — life abroad 
was preferable to her to the tedium of a plantation with 


26 


A CONSUL TO CHINAo 


laborers no longer slaves to her will. She was the kind- 
est mother, the kindest mistress in the world, but the 
old order of things was changed. She was not anxious 
to administer to the new order — as intolerable to her as 
to many others. Happily she was in command of means 
sufficient to escape it. 

As far back as her sons could remember, Thornleigh 
had been the asylum for the impecunious, the idle, the 
lame, the halt and the blind — for all who comprised the 
broad limitation of Virginia kinship — to any who urged 
the faintest tie of blood to ^'Cousin Elizabeth.” Many 
interesting characters had assembled at Christmas, or at 
different seasons of the Christian year, to spend a week 
in serene content, a month or a year as the case might 
be. Madam Thornton was not only willing to encourage 
with counsel, but to aid materially — to give with lavish- 
ness. Not that she made a show of charity. She was a 
favorite with all classes of the neighborhood ; with the 
rector of the parish, who described her as a devout 
church-woman if — let alone. The secret of madam’s popu- 
larity was to some extent due to the fact that she was 
happiest in seeing others happy. 

William Stedman, a retired naval officer, had his 
especial stall, stored with odd-shaped, long-stemmed 
pipes and walking sticks of the wood of divers design 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


27 


and countries — odd memorials of foreign lands — models 
of ships and men-of-war, held on to since incapaci- 
tated for sea duty. His stories of the briny deep, his 
fair and foul weather prognostications — if not eliciting 
the faith of Old Probabilities — were listened to with 
grave respect by all who congregated about Cousin Eliza- 
beth’s hearthstone — with one exception — Miss Tabb did 
not know the meaning of respect, although she faintly 
grasped the idea that when Cousin Elizabeth espoused the 
cause of man or woman ^it exacted something out of the 
common from her. 

If Cousin Billy was a little tipsy after dinner on 
occasions he was discreet enough to slip quietly off to 
bed. Once only was he known to make a public demon- 
stration of his weakness. Madam’s fields of wheat were 
filled with workmen threshing the grain under a clear 
sky, when Captain Billy with a very red face suddenly 
appeared upon the scene, gesticulating wildly, shouting 
at the top of his voice, ^^Take the horses out! Take the 
horses out, men!” The harvesters realized at a glance 
that the storm raged in the brain of the poor gentleman 
only, but at a sign from madam — who followed choking 
with laughter under a big sunbonnet — his orders were 
carried out. Madam said he was not to be humiliated. 
Flipper was to blame for making the toddy strong. 


28 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Winfield Scott Long, cousin — familiarly called the 
^'long-winded poet’’ — recited cleverly and created at a 
moment’s notice an epic of any one of the great battles 
or great generals of the civil war. He retired to his den 
punctually from ten to two each day of the week, where 
he wooed the muses for the enlightenment of future gen- 
erations. 

Jerusha Tabb, cousin, whose austerely thin lips 
snapped with the sharpness of the knitting needles plied 
diligently in her own service, was the aggressive spirit 
of the family. She respected nothing — she resented 
everything, especially the appearance of any chance 
visitor, whom she eventually talked to death. Her one 
accomplishment had been perfected in behalf of the 
poorly clad soldiers of her country, it was said, but it was 
difficult to associate devotion or patriotism of high order 
with the forbidding aspect of the outward woman. 
With studied rebellion she adhered to her room and her 
rights in the household of Cousin Elizabeth, which she 
declined to relinquish to any newcomer, sinner or saint. 

Pretty little Betty Summers, the daughter of a distant 
relation, the worthless Ben Summers who had run his 
race swiftly, leaving his wife and nine children to strug- 
gle forward on a poor farm — not having had the grace to 
be killed in the war — was a musical prodigy. She 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


29 


would rival Blind Tom — the Paderewski of the South — 
in time. She had listened to and imitated the music of 
the blind pianist by the hour at the house of a neighbor. 
General Bigby, the former owner of Blind Tom, and just 
as Blind Tom had followed the fandangoes and wonder- 
ful things played for him by Miss Pauline Bigby, had 
little Betty Summers imitated his renditions with amaz- 
ing accuracy — of course Cousin Elizabeth’s grand piano 
had been factor and promoter. So, little Betty Summers 
was to surprise the world — some day — if she lived. 

The most important member of the household was 
undoubtedly Cousin Honora Thurston, who presided at 
madam’s board and over her key basket in the absence 
of the lady of the house. There was an under-function- 
ary of course, but Miss Thurston was one of the powers* 
that be. She was large of means and large of frame. She 
was slow of speech and painfully ugly. She was accused 
of overweening vanity by some, who said that she deluded 
herself with the belief that she was the heroine of love 
romances. Her extreme good nature was ascribed by 
the same persons to girlish giddiness, unwarranted in a 
woman of her age. Certainly the same hawkey e atten- 
tion made known the fact that when nothing better pre- 
sented Cousin Elizabeth’s boys each were successively 
the recipients of Miss Thurston’s favor. 


30 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


To-day Horace’s purse was better filled than that of 
his brother — to-morrow Koswell received a copy of her 
latest photograph — considerably less valued. 

^^A fine target for rifle practice,” declared the young- 
ster, holding the picture aloft, that Horace might 
inspect it. 

^^Take care — don’t tell her so,” advised the shrewd 
Horace. ^"You want a pistol, you know. When it has 
been wheedled out of the old lady you can afford to put 
that bit of pasteboard up for mark — not before.” 

'"Dear old virgin,” said Boss as he dropped the pic- 
ture into the pocket of his waistcoat. 

The photograph was the face and figure of a woman in 
middle age. Her elaborate gown of brocade and velvet 
was marvelously decollete in the back. A peruke of 
faded flaxen hair was twirled and twisted in a tower of 
corkscrew ringlets on the top of a head in which blos- 
soms perched. Wrinkles had declined to tarry upon 
that face — they burrowed like yawning canyons about the 
neck and lower jaw. The expression and attitude was 
that of a big, ugly, helpless, smiling infant, playing at 
hide-and-seek with old age. 

Had Miss Honora Thurston been consulted in regard 
to the nature of her gifts, or the character of the Thorn- 
ton boys, the inner workings of her mind would have 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


31 


been clearly, if laboriously stated: give money to 

Horace because be loves money better than anything in 
the world. Eoss is different. He is not as strong as 
Horace in many ways, but he will never hurt you if he 
knows it.’" 

The antiquities mentioned, besides numerous black 
squatters upon Madam Thorton’s place and bounty, 
were upset beyond measure when a day of change came. 
Had Jupiter helped Cupid draw his bow, and opened the 
ground beneath their feet, the violence of the bolt could 
not have been greater, could not have blown them more 
wholly to pieces. The men — as men do — intrenched 
themselves behind a breastwork of reserve; but the 
women — Miss Jerusha Tabb stormed and bewailed her 
fate, cast adrift upon the cold charity of the world. 
Miss Honora Thurston lamented in slow moans the loss 
of Cousin Elizabeth’s protection. Betty Summers gave 
up piano-forte practice for a time to weep mawkish tears. 
But there was no averting destiny. Madam Thornton 
had decided to marry a second time. A gentleman 
whom she had known and respected, a fine financier of 
the West, was to be the happy man. 

When madam called her house to order, making 
knowm her intention in her humorous way, it was under- 
stood perfectly to be final. 


32 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Cousin Billy and his ship models, the poet with yards 
of unpublished manuscripts, Miss Tabb and her punctur- 
ing needles, the young musical genius with a startling 
opera just ready for the stage-manager. Cousin Honora 
with her frills and furbelows and caravan of trunks, were 
all reduced to the necessity of looking out for themselves. 

If madam’s second marriage was obnoxious to these 
parties, it was none the less distasteful to her sons. If 
regretted in the beginning it was deplor^ when, after 
the brief space of eighteen months, she arrived at the 
capital, broken in health, depleted in pocket, and to all 
intents and purposes separated from her husband. It 
gave them a shock to have her resume the name by 
which she was best known, and as Madam Thornton 
received regularly the friends she chose to congregate 
about her. She selected her apartments in the ^West 
End among the older residents, in what had been in her 
girlhood the court end of town. She had nothing to 
fear from contact with this old quarter, abandoned by 
the ultra-fashionable world. 

In the "West End many of the oldest and best resident 
families of the city still hold their own — form a social 
center of no mean importance — an influence that is felt 
and widely growing again. An air of comfort and re- 
finement, if not overweighted means, was imparted to 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


33 


madam’s rooms by numberless objects of value wbicli 
she still possessed. She had enough money to keep her 
form actual starvation. Her sons — one of whom was 
more than prosperous — were not to be depended on for 
assistance. Horace Thornton had selected as his wife 
a wealthy girl without family connection, who had been 
something of a belle in her own circle — and expected 
still homage from every quarter. 

In no way congenial, she had contrived to offend her 
mother-in-law at the start. This offense was intensified 
later when she refused point-blank to allow her husband 
to offer his mother substantial aid when she found her- 
self embarrassed. The wife of Horace Thornton was as 
hard and unsympathetic as his mother was warm and 
generous. She loved money for what it brought her 
personally — not for any good it could be made to do 
other people. When she married Horace Thornton his 
family were said to be people of means. She did not 
propose to provide for them if thriftless or broken down. 
Not a dime of her money nor of Horace Thornton’s 
newly acquired wealth should stray in the direction of a 
silly old woman, who had lacked wisdom to hold on to 
her own, and who would now doubtless cast reflection 
upon the successful members of her family. 

So the climax came when Horace and his wife, who 


34 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


led lives of luxurious ease, denounced madam socially. 
From their point of view she was not only shabby, but 
the companies she assembled were vulgar — she was guilty 
of eccentric behavior and of sinful waste. But it was 
impossible for them to alter the course of action that led 
Madam Thornton to enliven existence by a series of 
entertainments, for which, as Mrs. Horace Thornton said, 
she was unable to pay. It was not often that Mrs. 
Horace Thornton so far forgot herself as to allude to 
these, ""De Sale assemblies a la microbe.^' When she 
alluded to them, however, she never failed to fasten per- 
sistently upon madam the name of her second husband — 
De Sale — along with incipient disease. This had its 
effect upon the mother-in-law — made her more than ever 
inclined to antagonize the Horace Thorntons. 

To people striving to reach the first round upon the 
ladder of society madam’s course was terrible in the 
extreme. Madam paid no attention whatever to airs of 
superiority. She remembered distinctly a period of the 
lady’s existence and a popular haberdasher shop — but 
she was too broad to seek to put an obstacle in the way 
of any one inclined to rise, much less humiliate her own 
son. 

But when ^^old Bill Eamy’s daughter” saw fit to leave 
her carriage at the door of Madam Thornton, on Friday, 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


35 


the neighborhood day, while she intruded her silks and 
satins and velvets upon her mother-in-law, in the interest 
of reform — she called this manner of pleasing herself 
doing her duty — the woman whom she addressed as Mrs. 
De Sale, smarting under her insolence and the indiffer- 
ence of her son Horace, secured the whip hand and held 
it. She resented intrusion in forcible language — de- 
clared she would have as many Sunday receptions as she 
pleased — know the people whom she could not know — pay 
her expenses or not at her own discretion — and further- 
more she would thank Horace Thornton not to thrust his 
wife upon her list of expected guests. After such bitter 
words Horace, of course, held aloof. 

Madam became to them an affliction to be borne 
silently — to be spoken of under breath — to be kept 
rigidly in the background of life — alluded to as one 
might to a physical deformity or an incarcerated lunatic. 

With the Eos well Thorntons, however, it was different. 
The wife of Eoswell Thornton had been a general favor- 
ite and a county belle as Mercy Warren Lloyd. She was 
courted first by Horace Thornton, who had not been fav- 
ored. When Eoswell entered the room one winter’s 
evening and found his mother seated at the harp, and 
Mercy at the piano, his heart gave a leap. The situa- 
tion was just such as his heart called for. ‘‘Now get 


36 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


your fiddle, Koss, and we’ll be happy,” said his mother. 
The son understood. His mother had fathomed his 
mood, his restraint, his fear of confiicting with Horace, 
and sought to do away with it. After this the three had 
spent certain hours of each day in one another’s society. 

The marriage had taken place some years previous to 
that of his mother’s second venture. And when after 
this second venture some of his expectations had van- 
ished ‘Tike the lost Pleiades seen no more below,” Mercy 
and himself were firm in the belief of his own power to 
rise to distinction. If talent failed, there was another 
channel open to him — political honors had not been 
desired. It was irksome to seek to please a fickle, popu- 
lar taste, but the present aspect of affairs pointed across 
the Stygian bridge. 

“If I had stood by the old State like a man, I might 
have represented her in the Fifty-fourth Congress,” 
thought Eoswell, who chafed daily. He longed to give 
himself rein, as the blooded animal who had taken him 
across country in the old days. He desired power, dis- 
tinction, prominence — as months wore into years and 
these came not, cynicism was beginning to cloud the 
hopeful temperament, to choke the healthful tone. 

He was not unlearned in either theory or practice, and 
association with a character such as that of his wife 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


37 


enabled him to combat this tendency — she strengthened 
his faith in the great Unknown, and prevented the mys- 
teries and solaces thus afforded from becoming vague 
and distant. Yet the sons of Madam Thornton had 
fallen much into her convenient way of thinking, unless 
her son Horace was to be cited as an example. He had 
become one of the actual springs that supply city life 
with organized charities and could be seen regularly 
with his wife in a pew on Sunday, in one of the fashiona- 
ble churches, among the orderly church-going people. 

Madam Thornton had been actuated through life 
more by strong pride of race than by marked piety. 
Her prejudice in regard to rank and position had been 
decidedly non-democratic — but necessity knows no law. 
Koswell’s usage to her ideas had not served to discipline 
his character, or enforce fixity of purpose. Between the 
two, a genuine comradeship existed. 

Where Horace fumed, the younger son was sympa- 
thetic and affectionate. He resembled her by nature, and 
his own struggles taught him to lament the wretched 
straits to which fate had consigned her so late in life. 
He admired her spirit, her airy way of seeming not to 
mind trouble. If her domestic circumstances were dis- 
turbed, none found her cast down or bewailing the cares 
of every-day life. It was known that she could barely 


38 


A CONSUL TO CHINA, 


exist upon the remains of a splendid fortune squandered 
by her second husband, but she was in some way equal 
to the emergency. She was well known, well respected, 
many loved her — many favored her as she had favored 
others. If she had no money to give and no room 
for the extreme new woman in her heart, she was an 
authority upon social matters — upon household and polit- 
ical economics. She taught weekly an Historical Bible 
class of young women in her rooms. Madam Thornton 
was perhaps inconsistenst. Happily, the people who 
noted the coming and going of her guests on one of her 
Sunday evenings had no wish to say abroad what put 
her elder son in a frenzy even to think of — that she 
entertained on credit. 

Those wonderful Sunday evenings, those drastic recep- 
tions! A horde of ante-bellum, seen-better-day people 
took possession of madam’s quarters — the first fioor of 
an old gray stone mansion on F Street, which, like the 
hostess, retained evidence of bygone gentility. They 
ate cake and drank tea furnished by some obliging grocer 
— certainly not Mr. Horace Thornton — cordial, kind, gay, 
they discussed times past, present issues, the future 
horoscope ; extending hands of welcome to all individual 
talent or struggling skill. 

Madam was the leading spirit. Horace and his wife 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


39 


went their way and she hers. It was bad enough to lose 
one’s money when youth had gone with it and she was 
not prepared to deprive herself of the society of agreea- 
ble people — who honored and sought her out — simply 
because she was no longer a rich woman» 


40 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


CHAPTEE m. 

In due time Eoswell Thornton recollected the money 
that Horace had given him for his mother, and he decided 
after leaving his brother to drop in upon Madam Thorn- 
ton. It was nearly five o’clock when he turned his steps 
in the direction of the West End. 

The sun was setting, and the western horizon ablaze 
with rose and heliotrope and amber. A glorious sunset 
fell athwart the executive mansion, the war, state, and navy 
and the treasury buildings, each of which stood out as a 
cathedral of gold. The streets were full of sleighs 
brightly caparisoned — on their way to the Tenalleytown 
road or some thoroughfare in quest of unbroken snow. 
A moment later and the blaze of electric light put to 
shame the lingering daylight, casting its garish, sickly 
shade upon the scene — lighting some snow-clad corner 
or some woman’s face, more lovely than her sisters, 
wrapped to the chin in costly furs — gloating in the cold 
as do the veritable otter seal. The jingling bells moved 
on. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


41 


Eoswell, forgetful of the morning’s dissatisfaction, gave 
the bell of the apartment house a cheerful ring. As he 
was admitted by the porter a lady of rather marked 
appearance came out — a lady with a face as brown as a 
withered cocoa leaf. Spry, ascetic, angular, she carried 
alertly a bundle of papers held together by a rubber 
strap. 

"‘How do you do, Koss?” she asked. “Your mother 
has a very distinguished visitor.” 

“Glad to find mamma at home,” said he. 

“A little early for my round,” she said consciously, 
“but I have a lot of teas down — have to dine that way — 
if the penalty is a splitting headache. It’s a life of 
drudgery I lead — always on the anxious bench and get 
no thanks. Any buds to come ? Are your people going 
out?” 

“If you mean Mercy and ” 

“Oh, I know it costs money. I wish this was the 
social center New York is — I mean as many rich 
people — and I’m dying this minute for a bit of news. 
If I fail to secure something fresh or racy for copy early 
in the morning. Topics has seen the last of Jerusha Tabb 
— and you know what that means — the Potters’ field. I 
declare. Boss, editors are the meanest race of men on the 
face of the earth — they expect everything up-to-date and 


42 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


pay a beggarly sum for it — after one has racked brain 
and limb in their service. No gratitude. Any gossip, 
or swell parties your way She smirked encouragingly. 
"'If so, for Heaven’s sake tell me before that braying fool 
gets hold of it. He goes everywhere — sees everything — 
hears more than any other old screw ever born — he can 
make a column out of a man swallowing a fish bone. 
The Horace Thorntons are of enormous importance, I’m 
told. Have they moved in? English basement? Din- 
ing-room and drawing-rooms open into each other? 
What are the prevailing tones? Has Miss Annette 
arranged her art collections or is she to hire that 
done?” 

""Just left there,” returned Koswell, obliging and 
bored; '"but for the life of me I can’t tell you what it is 
all like. All very fine. They are to have a ball or some- 
thing soon.” 

""Surely,” said she, ""Boss Thornton, you bear the light 
of Providence, you are the lamp to my wheel. 
Where can that book be?” fishing forth a dilapidated 
notebook from some depth of her skirts. ""H-m! recep- 
tion — when ? Next few days. Good. Number of cards 
sent? Whom did you say would receive with our 
cousin?” 

""Can’t tell. Mercy maybe able to give you detail, ” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA, 


43 


said he, glad to promise anything that might effect his 
escape. 

"'Yes,’’ said she, '"that will do nicely. I hear the 
Colonial Dames, and Daughters of the Kevolution, and 
the Society P.V.A. are after Mercy on account of her 
colonial name. They must think she has money to spare. 
Look out for Topics, And oh, Eoss, get me cards if you 
can — and don’t forget, I hate to shine in the light of a 
reporter, so I take a man along. But the description of 
you and of Mercy shall be perfect for it and the southern 
ball — Horace should remember that I am an old friend 
of the family and a relation — blood’s thicker than water. 
I always thought Horace an all-round good fellow if — a 
little close. He ought to know that I have to live. 
Think what a life ! I start in the morning with the 
reflection, "Jerusha Tabb, how do you propose to pay 
laundry, landlady, car fare and dine?’ I have to in- 
gratiate myself with the newcomers — no matter what 
their politics. I don’t dare have politics — and dine out 
every other day in the week. How? Oh, that’s my 
secret. I’d starve if I didn’t. This has got to be a sink 
or swim place. Don’t forget the invitations, Eoss.” 

""All right,” said he, bowing away from her side the 
fortieth time. He was not sure, however. A friend and 
relation of the family was no passport to the favor of 


44 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Mrs. Horace Thornton. He found it difficult to say no 
to any who appealed to him, but as Miss Tabb picked 
up her skimpy skirts and made her way down the broad 
stone steps as if treading on eggs, the thought he sent 
after her retreating figure was, ^‘She has kept me here 
half an hour by the watch. Saints defend one from such 
a stream of garrulity.’" 

After a few steps along the corridor he gave a door a 
push. It swung back softly. For the first time in her 
life Madam Thornton was devoid of the services of a 
maid, but otherwise her apartments gave no impression 
of having come down in the world. Two people stopped 
speaking as Koswell Thornton advanced, and a moment 
later two figures emerged from the shadowed corner 
where they had been seated talking over a cup of tea. 
One was florid and hardly tall — the other was no penitent 
Magdalen clothed in violet, but a graceful, willowy, 
modern creation — a flash of brilliant well-dressed beauty. 

If stout and flushed. Madam Thornton’s was a fine 
old face, illuminated by a pair of clear gray eyes — lucid, 
far-seeing eyes. If these had failed her in one instance 
of her life, it is a comical fact that affairs of the heart 
make a strong draft upon both eyesight and sense. Hers 
was a massive face, with the rather heavy chin that will 
sometimes come to the most beautiful face in later life. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


45 


Besides the fine eyes, her hair was white and abundant 
and was reared on top in a way that supplied to her what 
she lacked in height. Both manner and carriage had a 
distinction common to few — born, not made. In fact 
Madam Thornton’s was a striking personality. 

‘'Ah, Boss, how do you do, my boy?” warmly asked 
his mother as she embraced her son, and proceeded to 
light a lamp. “Adele,” she added as the light flared 
np, ''you now recognize an old friend. Boss, you see 
before you one of the beauties of your day.” 

“Adele de Cherville,” said he, smiling. 

“Mrs. Edgar Bose-Bodney, ” corrected madam. The 
younger people had shaken one another by the hand, 
and were at once at ease. 

“I should have recognized you anywhere,” said he. 

“I envy you the possession of a retentive memory, ” 
said she. 

There were a few more side remarks but no opportu- 
nity for reminiscences. For some reason madam did not 
indulge them. With the self-appropriating vanity of an 
elderly person she drew them to her side. 

“You are both posted,” said she; “help me decide 
upon some prominent Virginian, resident in New York, 
who can be of use to me. I shall put my marble quar- 
ries on the market if it can be done. Shares should be 


46 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


had at par. My property would yield twenty times that 
of the soft stones if properly managed. It’s finer than 
any Georgia marble. Upon whom can I rely to go in for 
a share in a big pile?” 

In another apartment house the gas burned low along 
the hallway — mean little spots of light in the musty 
gloom. 

Koswell Thornton shivered as he stepped out of the 
elevator. It was snowing again and melting as it fell, 
but in these halls the air was always chill. He knew he 
was late for dinner and went directly to the library, 
where he found his wife. 

Mercy Warren Thornton had inherited her name 
and some colonial treasures from her great-grandmother, 
as well as that ancient dame’s erect figure and face 
of placid refinement — her hazel eyes and hair of 
pale gold. The woman of the past merged with the 
woman of to-day had evolved a polished, intellectual, 
up-to-date, and charming type. If not an Antigone 
about whom fine tragedies had been written, or a Trilby 
or Duchess of Towers over whom modern men have 
raved, she was a woman full of life, of love, of sympathy, 
of pride, of charm — a woman of sweet endurance, brave 
enough to hazard much for right’s sake. A singularly 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


47 


calm disposition — which is often thought to go hand in 
hand with a lack of intelligence — was combined in Mercy 
Thornton’s case with a mind as bright as her tempera- 
ment was sunny and cheerful. 

She moved as he came close to her side, put some 
sheets of paper aside, and glanced brightly into the face 
bent above hers. 

"'Always scribbling?” said he. 

"Otherwise Time would make way with me. I loathe 
sewing, you know.” 

"I would know if I had buttons.” 

"I was out all morning,” said she. "After I came 
from market I took little Alice Leigh for a ride on the 
wheel and then to the kindergarten. The tots were 
ranged around the room in a circle. In the center of 
the ring was a plant in a newly-painted pot. Each child 
was supposed to relate something pleasant in connection 
with the chrysanthemum. "It wants water,’ said one 
little girl. "It wants to go to the chrysanthemum show,’ 
said another. "It looks too tired to go, ’ a melancholy 
little object asserted. "You jest believe that,’ a shrill 
child voice interrupted, "it’s making believe jest to get a 
few more ’em Japanese frills on.’ A small boy was 
directed to investigate and see if he could detect its 
special odor. He dipped his nose this way and that 


48 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


vigorously, and rose to Lis feet disgusted. ^It smells 
like red paint, ’ said he, with the masculine, direc6 dis- 
taste for sham and show. Alice was delighted. Now, 
where have you been? Give an account — not to — China?’’ 

‘‘Not half a bad idea,” he replied. I wish mamma 
had started me in the army or the navy while she was 
about it. You know that Viceroy Li had such high 
opinion of our military and naval schools that he sent a 
number of his brightest young men over to be educated 
here with a view to entering West Point and Annapolis. 
It was a mistaken policy on the part of our government 
when this was denied. Not a boy would have been sent 
to America, except for this end. It must have seemed 
unfair to the Honorable YungWing and to Li Hung Chang, 
as Japanese students had repeatedly been admitted to 
the naval academy.” 

'‘But the young man before me would have been a 
strong opponent to the plan for himself, I venture to say. 
I met a girl yesterday who has been around the world 
and who thinks the American army does not amount to 
much. * ’ 

"Charlotte Potts, I bet. I hate an American 
girl to make a fool of herself — especially a pretty one. 
If she thinks that way why didn’t she stay abroad and 
marry some sprig of the Austrian nobility? 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


49 



country town will ruin the prospects of any man. 



He is taught to overrate himself at the start.’’ 

*'On the other hand,” said Mercy, ‘'the wholesome 
friendliness of a country town is a foundation good to 
build upon, and will prove a steadier support than the 
sand of public opinion which slips from beneath one’s 
feet, when one comes to face the world. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said he half-wearily, “Time proves all 
things.” 

“You are hungry, my dear,” said she. “I wonder does 
Jemima know you have come.” 

“Not hungry,” disclaimed her husband, standing near 
the hearthstone after a fashion loved of men — ^even when 
there is no blaze to comfort. “I went home with Horace 
to luncheon, afterward down town with him, and later I 
stopped to see mamma. ’ ’ He paused, adding with interest 
which did not escape her, “Whom do you suppose I met 
at mamma’s? Adele de Cherville — Mrs. Kose-Eodney. ” 

“Adele de Cherville,” repeated Mercy. 

“Parisian extremely — a thousand times more beautiful 
than ever before. ’ ’ 

“She has advanced. You do not admire her. Boss?” 
A slight inflection on the last pronoun. It was his time 
for surprise. 


50 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Pshaw! Something was said years ago. That has 
all blown over. It does not affect the social favorite of 
the hour.’’ 

‘‘It is amazing,” said she with a shrug of the shoul- 
ders that had been likened to those of Eugenie in her 
best days — shoulders that were, however, distinctively 
those of Mercy Thornton. 

Eoswell listened silently, expecting Mercy to go on — 
listened with a calm behind which irritation bordering 
on anger was concealed. 

“It was you that told me, I believe, at one time — 
young as she was — her appearance depended much upon 
whether one approved or disapproved of the use of 
cosmetics. ” 

Eoswell was above reproof. 

“Annette would tell us, however, that a fixed income 
from eight to ten thousand a year will cover a multitude 
of sins.” 

Mercy, unconscious of offense, had warmed a little to 
her subject — as was natural. Eoswell was prepared to 
regard what she said in the light of being disagreeable. 
He had removed hat and coat in the tiny vestibule, and 
now without a word in reply, passed into the bedroom 
and began to brush for dinner. He wondered if any- 
thing had occurred to put his wife out of humor. Not 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


51 


that she had displayed temper, but she labored under 
great disadvantages. It was hardly possible for her to 
accomplish her aims or desires. 

Mrs. Kose-Kodney — not that he compared the two — 
was a woman of decided power and originality ; clever, 
she amused, fascinating, she entertained without effort. 
It was sometimes impossible to move Mercy from a mood. 

Interest and admiration had assailed him from the 
moment the hand of Adele had touched his, the moment 
her eyes had met his — wonderful eyes, beaming, brilliant, 
bewildering. Of course he had not forgotten her — had 
he not heard of her frequently as a courted beauty of the 
smart set? Had she not reigned in more than one con- 
tinental town ? Women who were not fashionable were 
more or less prejudiced the world over, against their 
much-sought sisters. This was not intended for his 
wife. As he brushed his chestnut locks vigorously he 
recalled some remarks Mrs. Eose-Kodney had made to 
him, and smiled. He had spoken of the Horace Thorn- 
ton ball, and she had seemed pleased at the prospect of 
an invitation. Annette, after the manner of the nouveaux 
riche, would be delighted to welcome another wealthy 
woman and a celebrated beauty to her drawing-rooms. 
Horace would be ecstatic. He could imagine him as he 
went from one person to another in the overcrowded 


52 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


rooms: ‘"Have you met the star of the evening? Let me 
present you/’ And the waltz! She would glide about 
with the grace of the swan. After each dance they 
could sit and talk quietly under the palms of the con- 
servatory. He completed his toilet as these pleasing 
reflections swept through his mind and rejoined his wife. 
The servant had announced dinner. 

“Cold soup— eh?” 

“A fortunate man if soup is included in the bill of 
fare,” said she lightly — if she had felt any annoyance 
all traces of it had vanished. She caught his hand in 
hers as they went along the entry. In the small dining- 
room the table was neatly laid for two, its spotless napery 
adorned by a few fresh American Beauties, in a holder 
of exquisite cut glass. 

Eoswell’s glance fell at once upon a bottle of native 
wine in front of his plate. 

He was grateful for any aid that might help to 
account for the flush he felt to be gaining ground 
in his face — the excitement of which he was con- 
scious. 

“Cousin Honora sent us a basket of the Charlottesville 
claret,” Mercy explained with a pleased look. 

“Both virgin and angel,” he admitted. “Did she 


send us an Albemarle pippin?” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


53 


‘‘No doubt she would have sent a few had not the 
agent of the Queen of England swept the pippins across 
the channel this year.” 

After he had swallowed some wine and the soup plates 
had been removed he remarked lightly : 

“So you won’t object to an old friend taking dinner 
with us, some day, while the claret lasts?” 

“That depends,” answered she. 

“Upon the person?” said he. 

“I do not know her as intimately as you seem to do. 
It is only upon such terms I could ask her to share a 
quiet, home dinner.” 

“I know her well enough. That should be sufficient. 
At any rate, please leave our cards.” 

Mercy’s sunny face clouded. 

“Her day?” she asked quietly. “I can’t see the sense 
of it — I can’t really. She is a woman whom it can do no 
good to cultivate — either you or me. She cares less for 
the honor of a man or woman than you or I would care 
for a discarded glove. Of course dear mamma would be 
kind to her as she is to any one connected with her past 
or her people. But, Boss dear, we had better ignore her 
existence.” 

Boswell bit his lip furiously. He resented being 
talked at in this way. 


54 


A CONSUL TO CHINAc 


"'Mercy/’ asked he, "what has put you in this over- 
strained way of talking?” 

Her manner had been one of decided quiet. 

"You must know that I am capable of judging for my- 
self. I cannot see where your insinuations lead, or why 
you trump up a woman’s past, simply because I hap- 
pened to mention meeting an old acquaintance at 
mamma’s.” He waited: "I should like to do the right 
thing by an old friend occasionally. I can’t bear that 
every one should know that we live on a precipice, and 
for that reason you’ll see, if you think about it, I am not 
likely to run across any one in the world of fashion a 
second time. But pray do as I suggest and leave a 
couple of bits of pasteboard at her door — that will exon- 
erate me.” 

The last words were spoken gently, as he glanced at 
the face of his wife in the hope of seeing signs of 
relenting. He could see no visible indication of this, so 
when the cloth was withdrawn he resumed. "Do you 
seriously object to a renewal of this acquaintance?” 

"I do,” she replied; "you cannot understand as I do. 
She is utterly unscrupulous — undisciplined ” 

Boswell’s was the face to flush. 

"Is that all? Is that all?” he repeated. "Are you 
certain there is no crime at her door?” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


55 


Mercy paled beyond reason. For a moment she did 
not speak. 

‘‘I shall have nothing against her so long as it is not a 
question of your going out of the way to pay her atten- 
tion — in that case, everything."’ 

‘"Well, bless me,” he replied hotly, ^"if I did not 
know better, I should say you are out of your senses — to 
be jealous of a woman with whom I have not exchanged 
a dozen sentences in almost as many years. " " 

‘"You have never given me cause for jealousy,” said 
his wife, looking him squarely in the face. “I can’t 
imagine myself under such circumstances.” 

“But you have something in your mind, Mercy. It’s 
not like you to stoop to spite. Come, give me a list of 
her sins and let’s have done with it.” 

“Yes, do let it pass.” 

“An easy way of slipping out of it. You disclaim 
acquaintance and in the next breath speak as if you had 
known her. Come, what do you know of her?” 

“You are so unreasonable. Boss. I know nothing to 
the credit of Adele de Cherville. What I have said to 
you is only what I should have said to Basil under the 
same provocation.” 

This speech made its impression. 

“Why your brother? Why Basil?’’ asked he, awed 


56 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


for the moment. He was looking her soberly in the 
eye. 

‘‘Because/’ she returned, “this woman, this conversa- 
tion recall him and many painful things to my mind.” 

“But where is the connection with me? You insinuate 
a lot of things against her, and when I ask you to sub- 
stantiate a charge, you can’t formulate it. Instead you 
take high ground and lecture as if I were a boy in knee 
pants.” 

“I hope it was in knee pants that you knew her 
best.” 

The bright spots had deepened in his cheeks. His 
fingers trembled as he lifted the fork from his untasted 
dessert. Mercy had made his favorite cream sauce for 
the pudding — but it was not to be appreciated to-night. 
Instead, he gave himself over to his coffee, to thoughts 
of the ball, and all the frivolities he could muster, along 
with the invitation that must be secured. A card for 
Miss Jerusha Tabb and her escort quite escaped his 
memory. He had not cared for balls — but this would 
be a break. Horace had put it in his power. He was 
going. Mercy could sulk at home if she chose. He 
made no attempt to quiet his conscience. “I’m no lad 
to be scolded and directed,” he thought. But what has 
come over Mercy? If anybody had asked him he should 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


5 ^^ 


have said at once that no woman on the face of the earth 
had a sweeter disposition than his wife. 

Mercy noted his sullenness and made an effort to go 
on in her usual way after they had settled down for the 
evening. In a corner was the couch and down pillows 
that often wooed him to languor or repose, but he was in 
no frame of mind for either to-night. He restlessly 
paced to and fro, when suddenly he started, striding to 
the door. ^‘"What's that?’’ he asked sharply. 

^‘Perhaps Jemima has indulged ” 

‘H am surprised, Mercy. How could you allow such 
a thing in this confined space? Mamma’s orders would 
have been — if cooked at all — three miles from the house.” 

“Jemima,” he said sternly, coming upon the unsus- 
pecting servant, “don’t repeat this.” 

“What I gwine ter ’peat, Marse Boss? I ain’ heah 
nothin’.” Then as he waved a hand irritably toward a 
vegetable dish on the kitchen table, she accentuated her 
smiles with her white teeth, “Dis chile hab ample sater- 
f action honey. Don’ taste nothin’ like de cabbages what 
grow in Miss ’Lizbeth’s garden.” 

He strode down the hallway, his pet entirely spent. 
He cast himself down on the couch in fine humor. 

“Wish you had been with me to-day,” he said to his 
wife. “We had lunch, viewed the house. It’s a perfect 


58 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


gem — every convenience and every luxury. ” His ill tem- 
per had completely subsided. “Horace’s chef equals 
the club — the butler’s pantry is a thing for a house- 
keeper to dream about — the butler has an electric bell 
under his feet and of course Annette has one under hers 
— she likes to put her foot down. Horace is no inventor. 
She was the architect. The interior is lovely. She 
never spares money where she is to reap the benefit.” 

“She does good in that way,” said Mercy. 

“In her own way, yes. Well, she had some money to 
begin with — and brought luck, too, it seems. Every- 
thing Horace puts his hand to prospers. I doubt if any 
man ever made the same amount of money in the same 
space of time in any legitimate business. He has branch 
houses all over this town and can afford to suppress his 
name. If his wife could rid herself of the idea of her 
class — but of course she must make getting into society 
a business— she expects to break the surface with a 
golden crowbar. Our position is established, Mercy, 
and if we had one-half of their income I should not ask 
for anything better. We started pretty even.” 

Boss, ’ said Mercy, “I am sure I have never seen you 
in quite the mood you are to-night — it distresses me.” 

“I was thinking I had never seen you quite so bitter 
either,” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


59 


^‘Let that pass; you must remember that Annette’s 
money has enabled her husband to speculate apart from 
his business — but/’ she went on feelingly, ‘"she has not 
given him more in one way than I have given you. 
You know I was eager to give my life to study — ” Then 
lightly, “Suppose we alter positions a little, suppose I 
had married Horace, and you Annette ” 

“God forbid.” 

“We will come out all right. Boss, be sure of it,” she 
said, leaning toward him; “if the worst comes, we’ll 
lease a furnished house and take — ” The last word was 
spoken under her breath and much as if she said “com- 
mit murder.” 

“Yes,” he answered dryly, “we are both fitted for 
that life. Did you hear of the experience of the Kol- 
stons? He held a small office here, and his wife and 
daughters were tired of country life apart from him, so 
they hired a house furnished. They thought it a bar- 
gain, having secured a congressman and his wife for the 
second-fioor front. They hadn’t taken into account 
what defective light, heat, plumbing, rats and mice 
amount to in these old-fashioned mansions; there are 
creeping things, too, that unsettle one’s guests unless a 
close watch is kept. They didn’t know the style of 
people to be dealt with— professional boarders, who 


60 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


require everything first-class for the most moderate 
returns. They provided occasional ducks and terrapin, 
sent back to the farm for hampers of ham, home-made 
preserves, pickles, apples, poultry and birds in seas^on — 
everything in short their country place could produce. 
At the end of a few months Eolston’s people w^ent back 
to the Virginia mountains without money to spend, but 
just a trifie wiser. We have no country place to help us 
along, dear, and if we took one boarder, six dozen dear 
country cousins would find us out. See? We won’t 
blame them — it’s the fault of a system. Virginia 
people have always been censured for intermarriage with 
cousins. But what was to obviate it in Colonial days? 
Whom were they to marry? Beside, the land grants 
were in this way retained in families. By the way, has 
Annette told you about her ball?” 

‘^We have had cards,” said Mercy. 

''Nothing about your receiving with her, I suppose? 
If she does, is there anything you can wear?” 

Mercy smiled. 

"Grandmother Warren’s gown was damaged, you 
know, by its trip to the Centennial. It managed to sur- 
vive the Columbian Fair, but will decline the honor of 
gracing the ball of Mrs. Horace Thornton.” 


"And your wedding gown?” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


61 


wreck — absolutely.’’ 

‘‘I thought she brought you something from Paris 
last summer?” 

‘‘One of the mighty Worth’s misfits. When Annette 
dresses for and evening, you know, her maid assists. 
This garment proved hopeless — after the stays were 
drawn.” 

“I see. As she had to cast it off — it was the one thing 
you required, of course. I wish she would not disturb 
herself. A line of carriages may stand in front of the 
door on your day at home — distinguished people may 
yet court the favor of young Mrs. Eoswell Thornton.” 

“Now you are bitter. Boss.” 

“What do you propose to do, Mercj^?” 

“It won’t be any great punishment to stay at home.” 

Eoswell did not answer. A little while before, in a 
fit of pique, he had contemplated this issue ; now it was 
not to be thought of — he thought instead of the manu- 
scripts he had run across that morning — he thought of 
the ball without her — he thought of money. Finally he 
said, “There are some things I can’t make out about 
Horace. He is fond of me, but he never offers to help 
me out of real difficulties. What is a dress suit to me, 
if you have nothing?” He stopped short after saying: 
“He gave me some money to-day 


62 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


said Mercy, a pained expression coming into 
her face, ‘^you have no idea how his wife pins him to 
account.” 

She thought she knew why his brother did not aid him 
materially. She did not care for Horace, but he was 
regarded as a practical man, and by many as one of the 
most sensible men of the District of Columbia. She felt 
that he must wish his brother to exert himself — as she 
did. A secret of Horace’s success was his perfect belief 
in himself — his power to influence men by direct fearless- 
ness in speech, which swept others along with him 
financially. 

‘'The money was for mamma,” resumed Koswell. 
“Annette had been dilating upon mamma’s issuing cards 
for a Sunday evening. Even at luncheon she could 
barely repress her desire to run the subject in the ground. 
Too considerate, of course, to discuss the matter in all its 
aspects in the presence of the servants, she didn’t hesi- 
tate to say that ‘people who afford display only at the 
expense of others should have restriction placed upon 
them.’ If she had suggested St. Elizabeth’s in so many 
words, I should have mentioned another school of train- 
ing for a different class of persons — a Chautauqua of civil- 
ity, in fact. Horace, in the meantime, had given me a 
lot of banknotes for mamma, and after we got through 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


63 


downtown I concluded to go to F Street, although I 
Is new she would not touch a sou of his money.” 

''But that was right — and she?” 

"Why, you know I found Adele there.” 

"Go the first thing to-morrow.” 

"I can't make her take it. I am to pretend it a 
gift from her son Koswell, if nothing else answers. 
Father a difficult thing to persuade her?” said he 
cynically. 

"But you don’t need it,” said she. "You don’t 
need another man’s horrid old money,” she repeated 
with a gay smile that never quite banished the sadness 
of her face. Then she whispered in his ear. How brave 
and true, he thought. She was wearing with the grace of 
a young queen a street gown that had seen several 
winters — its rim of beaver was not as fresh as she liked — 
other matters were equally distasteful to one of her dainty 
nature. He could not bear to see her struggling to make 
ends meet. Stars of Moses! If only Horace’s scheme 
would work 1 He reached for the evening paper, screen- 
ing himself and his discomfiture behind its pages. He 
was humiliated by his failures — besides, he was conscious 
that the first real disagreement of his married life had 
just occurred. He had not been master of himself — had 
been petulant, even cross — and with Mercy. For the 


b4 


A CONSUL TO CHINAo 


moment something had seemed to beckon him forward on 
a new path — a dangerous interest had threatened to in- 
trude into his life, when he was weakest, most harassed, 
most eager to escape from himself. But should he test 
its worth ? 

The letters swam. He threw the paper down. He 
could not make an intelligible sentence out of the 
medley of words. He paced the floor restlessly, again 
and again, and eventually crossed to where a violin lay 
in its well-worn case. He took the instrument in his 
hands, pressed it beneath his chin, and with the patience 
and skill of the artist, put it in condition. Once in tune 
he drew the bow gently across the strings. Sad, sweet, 
gay, tender strains in turn floated through the room — 
snatches of old ballads, of songs, waltzes, a nocturne of 
Chopin — it was the music in his soul awakened from long 
sleep — stagnated by anxieties. A few stray bars from 
"'ll Trovatore” sounded, and as the notes fell, Mercy, 
listening, shuddered. As he bent his cheek to the violin 
his eyes — never anything but beautiful by whatever spirit 
moved — looked into hers. 

Shall we try something?'’ asked he. 

She took from among her notes Gounod's ""Fantasie on 
Faust," and opened the piano. His music sang to hers, 
full, sweet, soft, dreamy, delightful, until ‘‘My Heart at 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


65 


Thy Sweet Voice’’ had taken both out of themselves — 
both were soothed. 

''Indeed, Mercy,” said he softly, "ball or no ball, 
you shall manage to hear Seidl — the conductor of the 
age.” 


66 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


CHAPTEK IV. 

One of the mild, sunbright days that have come to be 
a feature of a Washington winter — and every year brings 
to us more and more people in search of health and pleas- 
ure and elegant leisure — had broken with flitting tints 
of scarlet and purple over the city. The pavements were 
wet and streaked with mud, however, and down the broad 
streets little rivulets of water poured. Give the sun a 
half chance and these would quickly dry off — there is no 
city in Christendom that can look as unprepossessing to 
the eye at one minute, as fair and clean the next. 

Boswell Thornton, as he stood at his office window, 
looked out and yawned. He was in an unsettled and 
feverish frame of mind, and his hands and feet were cold. 
His thoughts, which for the last few months had dwelt 
persistently on the past or present misfortune, now 
sought with a sort of desperation to push aside the veil 
of the future. He had not slept well. When he had 
slept at all he had heard the reproachful voice of Mercy 
mingling with Adele’s seductive tones, Jemima’s mum- 
bling amid the blatant clamor of the fakirs all 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


67 


drowned finally by his mother harping upon the Con- 
tinental Congress of the Daughters of the Devolution — 
'lineal, of course — go back to George Washington twice 
on the paternal side, etc.’" Then a purse must be raised 
for the family of some broken-down old soldier. Grad- 
ually these' sounds ceased, and he was at the side of 
Adele — it seemed as if he had had a struggle to get there, 
but at last her baby-blue eyes gazed into his with evi- 
dent admiration. He tossed and whirled and tried to rid 
himself of the tantalizing vision. Wearied with the 
effort, he rose and took breakfast with his wife. 

Mercy noted his languor and pallor and asked if he felt 
ill. She was not constrained — indeed had forgotten the 
unpleasant discussion of the evening previous. Yet, had 
she known it, from that hour something in her elastic 
nature, capable of reliance, of resistance, was impaired, 
some faint ‘‘rift within the lute” of her happiness was 
set in motion. 

When Koswell Thornton left the house he sought the 
solitude of his office. Since his reverses he had parted 
with numerous luxuries in his environment; upon an 
economical basis, unknown to his wife, he had further 
retrenchment in contemplation. His office was to be 
given up entirely, and “desk room” taken in the estab- 
lishment of some more fortunate man of business. For 


68 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


an hour or so he strode restlessly to and fro. He could 
not concentrate his attention. Had a case waited it 
would have been the same. He was listless. He was 
cold. He dragged a chair to the radiator. He felt ill. 
He had forgotten that over a year before he had ordered 
the heat cut off — to reduce rent. There were no coals in 
the grate. He had never thought of death very seri- 
ously, but he now strove to fancy how it would be with 
Mercy should a sudden stroke of pneumonia take him off. 
She could not be much worse off without him. To be 
born and to die in the same month of the year, possibly 
on the same day of the week, would be a coincidence. 
His father and his little sister Violet were sleeping in the 
old burial ground of the family at Thornleigh. Why, 
Violet would be a grown woman, perhaps married, with 
children about her knee, if she were alive to-day. Then 
he saw his own coffin and the mourners as he had seen 
them congregate in times gone by — heard the mournful 
old hymn tunes — saw the long, lonely road, the cortege 
moving slowly to the quiet country graveyard. Why, it 
would be good to see the old place and the old people 
once more, almost under any circumstances. He had no 
association in his mind with the busy men, the farmers 
who were unrelentingly felling the stately oaks and 
upturning the fair meadow lands. He dreamed of a patri- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


69 


mony lost — of a deserted country — its loneliness and its 
peace unbroken, save by the song of the whip-poor-will 
in some forest belt. 

‘^Please, Marse Koss/' broke in the guttural tones of 
Jemima, ‘‘I lef’ dat man in fron' o’ de Flats, an’ he sez 
he gwine ter stay dar twell he git he money.” 

Eoswell looked at her in a bewildered way. 

^^What?” he asked. 

With elaboration Jemima repeated her statement. 

"Wery well,” said he, and passed into the next room. 
'^And I am to pay bills,” he said when closeted. 

He was desperate, tormented daily by an increasing 
money embarrassment. Deliberating, he leaned heavily 
against the lintel of another door. A thought forced its 
way into his brain. Urgent necessity was the prompter. 
It was but a step into the next room, but both hands and 
knees trembled as he walked across the floor. He fum- 
bled in his waistcoat pocket and extracted a roll of bank- 
notes, one of which he handed to the waiting servant. 

''Sech er high-falutin’ big-bug,” reflected Jemima 
audibly, triumphant, ''an’ dar Miss Marcy stint herse’f 
mos’ ter death — an’ Marse Boss, he alway hab de 
chink.” 

After the servant departed Eoswell Thornton reached 
for a dust-covered bottle that had stood untouched since 


70 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


brought in by some admiring client on Christmas a year 
ago. He poured out some brandy and drank it. 

‘‘The most worthless men have their admirers/’ he 
said, and lighted a cigarette. This friction is making a 
crank of me fast. I like a little scientific research, but I 
don’t care to go too far. I could not feel worse if I had 
lost a million at roulette last night.” 

One thing was plain. He must get out of this rut. 
He must see Horace and make him understand matters 
clearly. He must urge him to work the consulate day 
and night for all it was worth. 

Horace, after submitting to one black ball with the 
best of grace, had eventually secured a hold in one of the 
uptown clubs. It was conceded everywhere that he had 
considerable infiuence in diplomatic circles. It was the 
general impression that he knew more than he ever told 
— in fact the inside track of many things going on in 
Washington. No doubt he could make important revela- 
tions if he chose. Thus reflecting, Roswell came to the 
conclusion that he must stir, advance, escape his present 
mood. Just as he drew on his greatcoat some person 
ran sharply up the steps. It was not a client — probably 
another bill. It was nothing approaching trade, how- 
ever. A smart colored man in fresh green liveries 
brought a dainty crested envelope, inclosing a note 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


71 


written upon exquisitely fine paper. He sent word to the 
footman that his reply would go by messenger and dis- 
missed him. He broke the seal and an odor of violets 
invaded his senses and his sanctum as he read : 

Dear Mr. Thornton: I inclose cards to one of 
my weekly receptions. I beg, however, that you may 
not feel regulated to any special day. 

‘‘Sincerely yours always, 

“Adele de Cherville Eose-Kodney.*’ 

His vanity was gratified. Here was a woman acknowl- 
edged as clever and a beauty, recalling herself to his 
mind and attention in a very flattering way. He was 
interested. Physical numbness vanished. Mercy, more 
the pity, was not the woman to put a man forward 
socially — she had not lacked opportunity. When she 
first came to town she was pleased with the attention 
paid her husband by the best-bred society people. Hand- 
some and agreeable, he had not outlived the popularity 
of a bachelor ; his violin had been an addition to many 
elegant drawing-rooms unable or unwilling to make a 
business of amusement, to draw a check for thousands, 
and command a popular pianist or a Melba in song. 
Mercy had been graciously received everywhere, but she 
would never be a fashionable woman. He wondered if 
he desired that she should. The first years of their mar- 


72 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


ried life had been happy, the pitiful pin-pricks of society 
or their social world made no impression. Lately he had 
been oppressed by unbearable anxieties. Mercy had 
shunned gay life. When he observed this he made up 
his mind they could not live among their rich and fash- 
ionable friends and relations. The strain was too great. 
He was glad to apply for a foreign appointment. Mercy 
was gifted, undoubtedly, but her symphonies, sonatas, 
serial and dialect stories, if not time and paper wasted, 
were making strong drafts upon a not overrobust consti- 
tution. 

It gave him a curious sensation, half pique, half regret, 
to feel that he must keep a secret from her. He wished 
she was less prudish. The note must be answered, of 
course. A fashionable woman could not be approached 
on legal cap, however. He put his hand to his waist- 
coat, and as quickly deterred himself, diverted by another 
idea. He must see Horace. He would go at once, praise 
Annette’s frescoes, and ask her to allow him the use of 
some of the costly stationery to be found in her morning- 
room. If he stopped to luncheon he could ask about the 
invitations. 

He looked at his watch — cast a rueful glance at his 
trousers — crease and fold would not obtain forever — 
Annette would be thinking of herself. After this, his 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


73 


mind was very much at rest. Why should he not enjoy a 
little novelty thrown in his way ? Horace, backed by a 
brace of senators, was pushing his case — he was the man 
to do it. This meant escape from present ills, success at 
last — on the road to China, in fact — on the way as a con- 
sul to China. 

As he went along he wondered about China. It did 
not exactly satisfy his ambition, but he had small choice 
in the matter. An ex-consul of Amoy had told him that 
although the history of China was practically a sealed 
book, the Chinese were the most practical and instinc- 
tively agricultural of peoples. He was certain it would 
require some little time to learn the routine of the office, 
and longer to become familiar with economic peculiarities 
and master the commercial problems of the district to 
which he was to be assigned ; and perhaps, after he had 
details at his finger ends, and had begun to be really 
useful to his country, a change of administration would 
necessitate his recall. But, in any event, he had small 
choice. If he got upon his feet and could pass a few 
years abroad at the expense of the government, he would 
at least have time to look around. It was essential that 
America should have a trained, enlightened, loyal con- 
sular service, and to this end the best men would be 
selected in time. At the prospect all his indomitable 


74 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


faith in his ability to fit himself to rise to distinction in 
his calling, to improve his present condition, returned. 

Horace was generally at home at luncheon of late, and 
Eoswell was not disappointed, but found him seated at 
table with his wife when he entered the room. 

Koswell, alert and refreshed by a brisk walk, asked : 
^"Who comes oftener?’’ 

Horace wore a new morning suit, his face its habitual 
air of self-complacent consequence. He leaned back in 
his antique chair, eyeing with satisfied ease the sumptu- 
ous elegance of everything about him. This or that 
represented so much money. He had been too busy to 
pay much regard to association or family inheritance. 
His voice was cordial in the extreme. ^'Welcome, my 
boy,’’ he called out to Koswell, giving him a hearty 
handshake over his shoulder. ‘'I have finished, you see, 
but you are as welcome as flowers in spring.” 

He ordered the footman to put a chair on his right. 
Annette, in a good humor and a very gorgeous combina- 
tion gown adapted to her dark eyes and hair, re-echoed 
the words of her husband. No one could make a mistake 
in the case of Mrs. Horace Thornton — one saw at a glance 
that she was overburdened with a sense of her own im- 
portance. She sought to impress her importance upon 
most persons with whom she came in contact. But she 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


75 


saw very little of any people except such as comprised 
the ultra-fashionable world. Since she had been able to 
advertise herself well — with a finely appointed establish- 
ment, a cuisine and a cellar well looked after, a corps of 
English servants from butler to scullery maid — not to 
mention a handsome equipage — and she had managed to 
secure a hold in that sacred disk of the earth, the North- 
west, which represented to her all of fashion, wealth and 
power^ — her imagination, no doubt, peopled other sec- 
tions of the city, but she simply did not know them. 
Whether she had known them in the past was a matter 
upon which she kept silence — doubtless many preferred 
that she should. The world in which she moved was 
blessed with happiness and prosperity — she had small 
patience with the vicissitudes of non-success. 

What she gave was to be given with a purpose. ‘^Give 
and it shall be given unto you,” was a literal translation 
of Scripture. What she spent was expended in much the 
same spirit. She was quite capable of deciding whether 
she should attain some aim desired, or do a real service 
from motives best known to herself. 

Happily, Mrs. Horace Thornton was only one of a 
class much criticised, even stigmatized. As has so often 
been said, as many good men and women exist among 
the wealthy classes as among less fortunate humanity. 


76 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


North, south, east, west, we have illustrations of gener- 
ous people on the outlook to brace and broaden the scope 
of moral development — to decrease human suffering. 
Men who give princely Sums every year, and women who 
give not only personal supervision to tedious detail, but 
work to promote progress among the poor and ignorant. 
If the woman be strong in health, she may be seen 
arrayed in satin and diamonds at some ‘‘at home recep- 
tion,’’ in a velvet costume at some friend’s or official’s, 
and earlier or later on a wheel visiting the different hos- 
pitals, in plain attire as Mistress of Ceremony at some 
church affair or festival for the benefit of the needy — and 
without being a platform woman she may preside at some 
meeting of a Veteran Association — she may be president, 
or secretary, or treasurer to over a half-dozen praise- 
worthy societies — she may be punctual at church guilds, 
as a member of a Continental Congress, at a meeting of 
the Colonial Dames, the Society for the Prevention of 
Cruelty to Animals, a Shakespearean club, and still fulfill 
every duty of wife, mother, and hostess. 

However, Mrs. Horace Thornton was one woman of 
fashion unwilling to sacrifice her time to the needs of 
indigent men and women. She was fully occupied im- 
parting an air of distinction (if acquired) to her gowns 
and rooms. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


She held no special views in regard to the brother of 
her husband — he was undeniably good-looking, of fine 
manner — useful at times, but it would no doubt be a 
blessing to all parties if this idea Horace was talking up 
about a consulate should meet with success. She had 
heard some able men discuss the subject some time 
before, and understood from their conversation that in 
some monarchical countries to hold the office of a consul 
was sufficient to bar a man from presentation at court — it 
was announced that the acceptance of a consulship was 
equivalent to the admission that the maan was not ex- 
pected to consort with nobles and princes — a consul 
rarely dined with his ambassador or envoy, unless upon 
occasions of state, or as a special condescension on the 
part of his superior. 

Men were pitchforked into this service without the 
smallest regard to their fitness, and as they were 
regarded by the government as canceling payment of 
local political liabilities, contracted during a presidential 
campaign, they necessarily could not amount to much 
either socially or in a monetary aspect. Mrs. Horace 
Thornton enjoyed these refiections. 

‘'We were discussing the ball when you came in,’’ said 
the master of the house rather pompously to his brother 
Eoswell, after he had taken a seat at the table. “You 


78 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


should see the cotillion favors. Annette bought them in 
Paris. ’ ’ 

There are feather fans in Pompadour colors, shaped 
in diamonds, for the girls,’’ Mrs. Thornton admitted. 

‘^And hearts, spades, small hats ornamented with 
bright ribbons, pretty drums with rosettes, Directoire 
canes tied with bows and floating streamers of silk — right, 
Annette ? The men will have white and gold canes, white 
trumpets to be slung across the shoulder tied with gay 
ribbon, and tambourines pinned to the lapel of the coat. 
What do you say to that, old man?” 

""Fine, I should say.” 

“1 should say; but, as usual, my lady must have a re- 
striction — her own way about everything. She is willing 
to spend money freely on the decorations, the music, 
supper, and cotillion favors, but she won’t consent to a 
canopy to screen her company. Boss. Not a farthing of 
hers shall creep into the street.” He laughed heartily. 

‘'What use?” asked Mrs. Thornton, handing Boswell 
a cup of tea. 

“It’s our first big affair,” said her husband, “and I 
want everything in keeping. I want everybody to recog- 
nize when I start out just where I stand. ” There was no 
reply at once. “Have another bird Boss?” he said, sus- 
pending a quail on a fork; “just a mouthful — what fine 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


79 


fat partridges we used to bag in the old fields back of the 
orchard, Koss. 

Uninterested in the retrospective, the lady of the 
house took up the thread of conversation where she had 
left ofi. ‘^Horace cannot understand these things as a 
man would do who had gone much into societ3^ It's as 
easy to over-do as under-do a thing. We do not want to 
proclaim from the doorstep that we are starting out." 

^^It's a problem rather complex for my judicial mind," 
ventured Eoswell. 

‘‘But one that needs no solution to mine. If Horace is 
in doubt he had better send for his mother." 

Both men were silent after this. Horace fiushed hotly. 
He tore his bread into fine bits — the crumbs were strewn 
about the cloth and the carpet. His wife’s foot touched 
a bell. The master required attention, consequently a 
change of subject, but Horace was little given to tact. 

“That’s all very well," said he, “very well, indeed, 
from your point of view. Z suppose you are to present 
me to good society? When it comes to knowledge of the 
world or of any social usage, I suspect my mother is 
about as well informed as Mrs. Horace Thornton." 

“A thorough business man is not expected topay atten- 
tion to social rules," qualified his wife, aware of her 
rudeness. 


80 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


have never cared for such matters/^ affirmed 
Horace, still sulky. was born a gentleman, however, 
and I have made up my mind to stop the grind and live 
like one. When I go out I expect to pick and choose. 
I should like to meet the man or the woman who will 
presume to dictate this or that to me — or that will de- 
cline to give me my place. I should just like to see 
that person.*' 

''Oh, that is not the question," said his wife. "Let 
us decide on the awning." 

"No, madam," said he, "decide that important matter 
for yourself. I shall not interfere." 

A growing resolve transformed his pleasant face. He 
was to inform his wife when he had the opportunity that 
he would put up with no innuendo in regard to his mother 
in the presence of Koswell. Boss was one thing dear to 
him. Like many nobler men he admired his wife — no 
praise was too high when speaking of her to others — at 
the same time she could easily excite him to anger or 
recrimination. He was not born Thornton of Thornleigh 
without strong pride of race. He was also scrupulously 
reticent as far as anything to be desired on his wife's side 
of the house. He was proud of her dash and quick way 
of acquiring information, he exulted in all his posses- 
sions, and was liberal and indulgent in his own house- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


81 


hold. Prosperity had not in this case driven husband 
and wife apart — they were as near to-day as they had 
ever been. He was not to be accused of over-sensitive- 
ness, yet where the decline of his family was concerned 
he was sensitive. Mrs. Thornton realized how unwise it 
was to antagonize him at this juncture. Suppose he took 
another turn, grew obstinate and inclined to suppress ex- 
penditure. She would be very helpless. Certainly the 
relations of her husband were no great credit to any- 
body ; she never by any possibility alluded to the connec- 
tion. But obliged to do so upon the occasion of a visit 
to the castle of Lady Ashburton in the summer — she had 
extended to that lady the use of her carriage when she 
found her with a punctured tire upon some English 
roadside — and finding Southerners much appreciated 
among Americans at the castle, Mrs. Thornton had con- 
fessed to an alliance with one of the lavish but thriftless 
families of the Southern portion of the United States of 
America. 

After the footman had been dismissed with a glance, 
she resumed, striving to launch conversation in conserva- 
tive channels once more. “The trouble with a great 
many people is, they have no manners. Several men 
upon whom Horace has called and asked to dine have not 
had the decency to leave a card afterward.” 


82 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


^‘They do not attach as much importance to a dinner 
as do some other people/’ said Horace sharply. ‘'The 
Anglo-Saxon always asks a man — who is his equal — to his 
house, to dinner, just as a Spaniard would ask the same 
to take a drive and to the opera afterward. ’ ’ 

“But what is one to do about these men when one 
comes to make out a ball list?” 

Horace sprang up from the table. He could not well 
upset it. He flung the napkin in his hand down in a 
white heap. A man came in, stopped behind the vacant 
chair, stooped and picked up the piece of linen, folding 
it elaborately. 

“Send them cards all the same,” said Horace hotly. 
“Men of our extraction. Boss — of course, no Northern or 
Western man would be guilty of such a lapse. It’s the 
Southern man without a dollar in his pocket with which 
to bless himself who does these dreadful things. It 
makes me tired. There is not a Southern man in this 
town but what lives like a gentleman, no matter how 
simply — not one who slaves his life out as I do. I had 
better go back downtown and grind like a darkey!” 
Mr. Horace Thornton stalked out of his handsome dining- 
room, jarring the doors as he went. 

“He seems worked up, doesn’t he?” asked his wife 
placidly. “Perhaps I had better have Dr. Morrison — 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


83 


the ball is so near. If in the spring a breath of sea air 
would set his nerves right.’' 

• Eoswell said nothing. He would follow the old fellow 
presently. In the meantime he twirled his mustache. 
He hoped Annette would wander back to the subject of 
which her mind seemed full, but she rose in a short time 
and led the way to her '^boudoir.” Eoswell, after look- 
ing about with assumed interest, sank into an easy-chair 
and presently touched upon one topic of the day, then 
another, in a half-confidential way — leaving his choice 
morsel for the last venture. 

‘‘By the way,” said he, after awhile, “have your ball 
cards gone?” 

“Not all, but the world is pretty well informed by now 
that Mrs. Thornton will be at home on Saturday the 
29th.” 

“Do you mind sending a card to some one you do not 
know — for the civility of the thing?” 

“I should very much mind in some cases,” said she 
languidly, as she yawned and wished he would go about 
his business — if he had any. 

“But to a famous Paris beauty — Mrs. Edgar Eose- 
Eodney. This, of course, is only to be considered in 
case your number is not in excess.” 

“Have I not heard of her? Was not your famous ‘ 


84 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


beauty entangled in some affair, rather startling at the 
time?” 

'‘You may have heard as much,” said he, subduing his 
irritation, “but you know we can’t depend on gossip or 
newspaper letters. Her husband was shot in a duel near 
Passy — there was some talk at the time, but that is about 
all, I think. She is as beautiful — as rich and fashionable — 
I mean, as any one here this winter.” 

“With whom does she go?” 

“She is greatly sought — received with the Light- 
weights when they opened their house.” 

-4 

“Where did you say you met her?” 

The face of Boswell was for the moment turned aside, 
as if to look into the street. “I met her at mamma’s 
the other night,” he replied quietly. 

After a pause his sister-in-law remarked, “Bather odd, 
is it not? Your mother usually affects some antiquated 
piece of infirmity.” 

“She never fails to recognize a claim to Auld Lang 
Syne. Can you ask the lady I mention?” 

“Certainly,” said she, “I will put her name down.” 
She crossed the fioor. “You can tell her that I had no 
time to pay formal calls,” and mentally added, “since 
she is the fashion I had as well see if the cut of her gown 
is similar to mine.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


85 


"'Another thing, Annette,’’ said he, after she had 
jotted a name in pencil in her registre de visite, "you 
have displayed such taste in the arrangement of this little 
room in rose and gold— I want you to let me write a note 
from your desk,” looking around the room as he spoke. 
"I may get some inspiration.” 

"Ah, Eoss,” said she, laughing, "yeu are too much 
of a gentleman for an American consul. I thought 
you were more fond of me than common this morning. 
Now, while I think of it,” she went on, "can’t you 
persuade your mother to let Horace have that old cabinet 
of the Bonapartes? It’s the very thing for my Empire 
curios. ” 

"Give and it shall be given to you, ” said his eyes. 
"Did you ask mamma to your ball?” asked his voice. 

"How could I do so after what has passed? It’s too 
late now, isn’t it?” 

"Never too late to do good,” he said. "I’ll see what I 
can do for you.” 

An even score. He proceeded with his note : 

"My Dear Adele: I will call with pleasure. In the 
meantime cards will reach you to the reception of my 
sister, Mrs. Thornton. Pray grace the occasion. 

"Very sincerely yours, 

"Eoswell L. Thornton.” 


86 


A CONSUL TO CHINA, 


His paper had the Thornton crest, he stamped the 
envelope with the Thornton seal, and a few moments 
later he descended the stairs, let himself out, and walked 
to the corner where he dropped the note into a post-box. 
A block beyond he hailed a street car and passed out of 
sight. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


87 


CHAPTEE V. 

Eoswell Thoenton found himself unexpectedly the object 
of the attention of a fair and favored woman. Sometimes 
seated at her side in a violet-scented room, or perhaps 
driven past a crowd of fashionable people on Connecticut 
Avenue. He could point out objects of interest old and 
new — improvement was invariably in progress or con- 
templation in this the greatest city of the continent. 
There was the proposed Eotten Eow, the new route to 
Peace Monument Avenue, the new Corcoran Gallery of 
Art, the city post office, etc., etc. After a tour of in- 
spection, handling the reins with the skill of the prac- 
ticed whip, she as invariably turned the head of the 
horses in the direction of a more popular avenue. 

Mrs. Eose-Eodney wore on these occasions a tailor- 
made gown of dark cloth edged with sable — sable about 
her smart toque and yellow hair. Behind sat the groom 
in his liveries of green. Her prancing white pair carried 
high heads as they passed with jingling chains of silver 
harness. All eyes turned her way. Two stylishly clad 
young men, standing upon the sidewalk, discussing the 


88 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Horse Show, uncovered their fine heads. A mother and 
daughter in cloth of Parisian cut bowed stiffly. A 
diplomat, small and vivacious in manner, seeking to 
explain something in broken English to the two ladies, 
recognized Mrs. Rose-Kodney with a very low bow. 
Three handsome New York sisters, escorted by the 
Apollo of the Diplomatic Corps, with his monocle and 
his languid walk, acknowledged the acquaintance of the 
beautiful woman in a graceful manner. Numberless 
people behind handsome horses in elegant turn-outs 
were equally gracious, the Chinese minister and his suite 
in their fiapping robes of state, the prominent man, the 
well-known woman, nurses with children, the English 
ambassador and his family in their open victoria, a few 
straggling offlce-seekers resting from persistent labor to 
^‘get in’’ — all who go to make up the perspective of the 
fashionable avenue on a bright afternoon, were attracted 
by, or hastened to do honor to the lady as she passed, 
behind her spirited horses. With a blue sky above, with 
the woman at his side, with dips of real country in view, 
small wonder Roswell Thornton felt a feather’s weight of 
care. 

"Mlike none but a handsome man by my side,” she 
had said to him. If not overcome, having heard himself 
so described before to-day, he was not insensible to this 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


89 


woman who wore her robes with regal grace — who cared 
nothing for lucre. She was as beautiful as any fine piece 
of painted porcelain. Her defined outlines were radiated 
by eyes of a clear, wintry blue, a complex complexion of 
lily and rose, while the pride of secure power shone on 
the surface. He thought he was familiar with her life. 
She disclaimed accomplishments, but was accomplished. 
She had been educated at a convent in Paris, where she 
remained as pensionmire while her parents spent their 
time in continental travel. 

^^Eoscoe is clever enough to teach a bicycle school,^’ 
said she, laughing softly at the great St. Bernard who 
trotted slowly behind the wheels; ^'but his legs cannot 
keep time as they once did, should his active mind and 
his poor old body consent. He is the namesake of a 
famous American statesman. Some day you shall see him 
kiss the rod.’’ 

If you ‘^are not to judge of music at a first hearing, 
nor poetry, nor pictures at first sight, unless one be poet, 
or painter or a musician oneself,” how much less are 
you to judge the character of a beautiful woman upon a 
brief acquaintance. A woman of thirty is a different 
individual from the girl of eighteen or twenty. 

Eoswell Thornton realized this the same afternoon. 
He waited while she drew off her gloves in her own 


90 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


parlors. The slight figure of a man ran quickly up the 
steps. The dog lying on a rug at the feet of his mistress 
at once gave a low, surly growl. ‘‘The Count de Vyne,’’ 
said she. “Koscoe is old and jealous — he resents his 
approach.” Hardly had she spoken when the dog made 
an angry bound. “Down,” said she, reaching for a 
whip and with it giving him a sharp cut twice across 
the face. The St. Bernard, intent and obstinate, made 
another infuriated spring, growling fiercely, when three 
severe strokes of the lash fell upon his nose, between his 
eyes, while a tigerish gleam came into the eyes of the 
lady — the emerald orbs flashing as she dealt his punish- 
ment. The subjugated brute cast himself down, whining 
at her feet, and as she extended it, crouched and kissed 
the rod that had chastised him. 

“I had given orders that no one was to be admitted,” 
she explained, without a ripple of excitement; “he must 
be made to understand that I submit to no dictation.” 

It W’as far from a pleasant incident to Roswell Thorn- 
ton. He was repelled and soon went away. Had she no 
emotion of pity? The hand of man could not deal a 
more cruel reprimand. The soft, white palm of woman 
was intended for caresses, not blows. 


In the meantime Mercy Thornton, who had been 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


91 


taught to sew, but disliked it, had been diligently work- 
ing upon a gown for herself. She had hardly paused 
until the last stitch was in, and she had tried it on before 
the glass. Eoswell would be pleased. It was undeni- 
ably pretty, and by no possible chance could be accused 
of resemblance to any garment worn by herself of late 
years. 

Up to this she had been quite happy over the construc- 
tion of it, and the way in which it had been bundled in 
upon her with a prim little note that smelled of lavender 
and revealed the kind donor who had considered her 
needs. It was a fine white silk crepe de chine to be worn 
over a stiff white silk petticoat with ruflles of embroi- 
dered chifion about the waist. It suited her pale hair 
and fair complexion to perfection. She had kept it from 
Eoswell as a surprise for him. After this manner it had 
been a custom between them to enter into one another’s 
little joys or woes. Mercy hoped he might come in early 
this afternoon. Many times before this week she had let 
her sewing drop, thinking she heard his voice or step, but 
invariably he had not come until just in time for dinner. 
So this afternoon wore away and no Eoswell came to 
break her solitude. She had grown restless and an- 
noyed as the hours passed, and now folded away the 
pretty costume. All at once it seemed absolutely out of 


92 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


place — seemed hateful that she should be indebted to any 
other than her husband for this pleasure. Half-petu- 
lantly she put the dress out of sight. What blight was 
creeping over the spirit of her dream ? 

Their dinner hour was half-past six o’clock, and at 
seven o’clock Koswell came. Mercy found herself re- 
garding him anxiously. A trifle worn, a little more care- 
fully dressed, perhaps. She could see no other change. 
Still they had very little to say to each other. When he 
had finished the evening paper and his usual smoke, 
Mercy was quite ready to retire. He sighed as he sat 
alone. On the following day Mercy waited for Koswell, 
and again she spent the afternoon alone. And so several 
days — a week passed. Music, books, her pen had always 
been resources, but these days seemed filled with a vague 
unrest that no day of storm had ever given. She was 
too nervous to go out, to pay a visit, or to seek agreeable 
companionship. She had never before realized how she 
had narrowed and welded her own life into the happiness, 
the mere existence of another. Without Ross she hardly 
knew how to spend her days or systematize her work. 

At last Sunday was here, and after the morning service, 
which she never missed unless absolutely ill, she remem- 
bered that this was the evening of Madam Thornton’s 
Sunday reception. She was too unsettled to go, but 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


93 


there were reasons why she should at least make the 
effort. She concluded to broach the subject — they would 
be together all the same. 

^‘This is mamma’s evening at home/’ said she; ^‘had 
we not better go?” 

‘‘You do not care for it, do you?” 

“Not particularly, but your cousin Honora Thurston 
is her guest, you know. Mamma will expect us, I think. ” 

“No,” he said. “Who told me she was here?” 

“I told you,” she said. “I called at once. I knew it 
would please mamma. And — the next day I had a queer 
old-fashioned note from your cousin, who sent me — what 
do you suppose ? An evening gown — a beauty. ’ ’ 

“Oh,” said he, proportionately pleased, “that was fine 
of Cousin Honora. I suppose we must go.” 

When they started out the sky was full of silvery stars. 
Koswell had not altered his attire, however, and Mercy 
wore her plain street dress. 

“Well enough dressed for the street car,” said he. 

“You remember the story of the Prince of who went 

to an entertainment in New York in a morning suit.” 

“A fine compliment to his hostess. He would visit his 
stables in the same.” 

“I wish I might call a cab,” said he impatiently as 
they stood waiting. 


94 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


''I had so much rather walk/’ said Mercy truthfully. 

"'I heard mamma say the same the other day, when I 
knew she dreaded walking. ‘Do not call a cab,’ she 
begged, ‘it will kill me — it shakes me to pieces.’ ” 

“A wonderful woman,” said Mercy, as they walked on 
contentedly. 

“Wonderful, indeed,” said her son. 

It was some little while before they reached the house 
of Madam Thornton. At the entrance he stopped 
abruptly and kissed his wife under cover of the night. 

“Let me come for you later,” said he. “I will be 
back promptb^” Before she could protest, with a bow 
he was gone. 

As she entered the old mansion the sound of revelry, of 
mingled voices greeted her. The hall was stacked with 
hats and coats piled one upon another on the floor, where 
chairs and tables were full — arctic gaiters and india- 
rubbers dadoed the walls. Laughter and tinkling glasses 
could be heard as she pushed open the door of glass 
which opened upon what appeared to be a long salon, and 
was in fact a parlor and bedroom, the folding doors 
thrown open, the folding furniture closed, and carrying 
out the illusion there was not a flower to be seen — not 
a knot of ribbon. Nor was there available space for the 
accommodation of one that did not hold two persons. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


95 


The room was packed. Evidently a most successful 
function. 

The eyes of Mercy traveled from face to face briskly in 
search of madam or some one whom she knew. Madam 
Thornton, a little way off, was receiving her guests with 
radiant smiles. The glow of tall brass lamps shed radi- 
ance over her noble figure, her beautiful white hair, and 
really fine diamonds. Diamonds sparkled in the snow- 
drift of hair, and a necklace and heavy pendant of the 
jewels rested comfortably above the low-cut corsage of a 
rich purple moire-antique dress. 

Mamma looks handsome — if she does have to wear 
what her wardrobe affords,’’ reflected Mercy; "'usually a 
gown of that kind accentuates the flesh of a woman past 
youth, as much as purple as a color the flush in her 
cheek.” 

In a corner to the right, presided over by a huge block 
of humanity, was a table loaded with rare old china and 
glass. From the center rose an antique gilded punch 
bowl — monogrammed — its conical spire of ice surrounded 
by a ruby liquid. This was a popular table. At another 
table tea and small cakes were displayed. A group of 
people were congregated about the animated, youngish 
little lady who poured tea gracefully, exposing a pair of 
white rounded arms, as she illustrated what an amount 


96 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


of fortitude and energy can be done up in small packages. 
She was speaking to a keen -eyed elderly person who held 
aloft for inspection a quaint silver tea-caddy. 

‘‘I cannot give you the exact date/’ said Miss Betty 
Summers, as she dropped a lump of sugar into a cup; ‘"I 
have heard Cousin Elizabeth say it dates four generations 
back.” 

observe it has a keyhole, ” said the same inquisi- 
tive elderly person, jostling a small flagon of rum as she 
replaced what she had no right to move from its place. 

"'Pity tea is not a beverage reserved for the gods still,” 
said the young lady to a rather youngish-looking swain. 
"I should like a member of the House of Burgesses to 
support me to-night — I might have a word with you.” 

‘"You should be satisfied,” saidhe, smiling; "you have 
the uppermost round at the feast. It’s what we men 
fight for.” 

Madam Thornton, with a wan-faced gentleman at her 
elbow, left her place and came forward to greet her 
daughter-in-law. 

"You remember our cousin, Winfield Scott Long — the 
poet,” said madam; "he recollects you very well.” 

/"He could not help it,” thought Mercy, "if he remem- 
bers anything. I was his audience often enough, glad to 
have the willow tree come in for a share of the honors.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


97 


** Winfield has just recited from his last book of poems. 
'Gettysburg’ is a masterpiece, and will create a sensation 
that vivid one can see the City of Tombs and the tent of 
white marble commemorating a regiment. To write his 
'Flights and Fancies’ was honor enough, but he set up 
type and printed it.” 

This was a lengthy send-off — madam looked wearied. 
Mercy saw what was expected of her. 

"Now, Cousin Winfield,” she said half-humorously, "I 
fear I have lost the best part of the evening.” 

"Well,” said he mournfully, "this little threnody is 
always by me.” He posed and recited in a steam-engine 
way, of which one could hardly have dreamed him capa- 
ble; 

Tears, bitter tears, 

Who has not wept. 

When sudden fears 
And deep regret 
Unbidden come ? 

“When life but seems 
The mystic breath 
Of troubled dreams, 

A sleepless death. 

And we are dumb? 

“Is this the life 
Of hope and faith, 

Or but the strife 
Of weary wraith 
To judgment sent? 


98 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


“ The earth grows dark 
The heart lies still — ” 

“Heavens!” thought Mercy, “mamma, your guests need 
you.” 

There is no mark 
Of God’s good will 
Or sweet intent. 

“All, all is gloom, 

Give vent, O tears, 

I feel the doom 
Of endless years, 

Of vain regret. 

“My soul, be calm. 

Surcease, O tears — 

There is a balm 
For all my fears — 

Christ paid the debt. ” 

“Beautiful!” said madam quite feelingly, and in a 
lower key to Mercy — “Move on — as they say in the street 
crowd — so glad you came, dear. Just the sight of you is 
a help. Where is that wicked boy — further on? There 
are some really charming people to-night — Carlo Dent — 
and behold,” said she comically, “our Cousin Jefferson 
Davis Tabb, in white cotton gloves — this scion of bygone 
gentility leaves nothing to be desired at my funeral, does 
he? Oh, well, he carves beautifully in marble, all the 
same. I am of a mind to order a catafalque from my 
quarry and have it in readiness — it would be no worse 
than Li Hung Chang starting over here with his coffin 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


99 


and having to send it back. My tomb could be adorned 
with a figure representing the lost ’’ 

‘'Now, mamma,” said Mercy, with a gentle tap of her 
small foot. 

“With a figure of ‘The Lost Cause,’ ” concluded 
madam, smiling. 

The eyes of Mercy had followed those of madam until 
they rested upon the brother of Miss Jerusha Tabb. The 
cut of features were the same, but where she was long 
and angular he was short and slight. Where she was 
considerably past middle age, he was considerably under 
— where her hair was thin and faded, his was crisp and 
sandy. Where her face was lined and withered, his was 
smooth and clean shaven. Everything about this young 
government clerk was precise — one could hardly say cor- 
rect. He did not go much into society, and when he did 
go he did not permit himself to talk, or advance any 
decided opinion about anything — politics of course was 
out of the question, and he was even afraid of any ad- 
vanced thought that might injure his prospects, but some 
day he trusted to a release from government harness, by 
natural genius. He possessed patience and perseverance, 
which are at the root of all power. 

Madam Thornton and Mercy had moved away to the 
other side of the long room, leaving the poet stationary — . 


100 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


that is, supporting the piano, against which he was lean- 
ing in a romantic attitude, looking much as if awakened 
from a hypnotic trance of some years’ duration. 

'‘Come, speak to Honora,” said madam. “She likes 
attention as much as ever. ’ ’ 

“Mercy wishes to thank you for the lovely present,’’ 
said madam, to the broad-shouldered person who admin- 
istered punch and presided over the array of empty 
glasses. As far as expression of any kind was concerned, . 
Miss Honora Thurston might have been constructed upon 
the plan of one of the mummies of the sacred bull in the 
Egyptian collection of the New York Historical Society; 
but she was a Colonial Dame, and no doubt, like her ances- 
tresses of the colonial period, her equable temperament 
and build inclined more to parlor games and adornment 
than to excursions, hunting and fishing, and horseback 
riding, for which some of the dames of that day were 
famous. Miss Thurston’s youth w’as renewed to-night 
by — as the superstition of the serpent — a change of skin. 
She was heavily galvanized. She mysteriously motioned 
Mercy to a seat near at hand. 

“Not a word of that now,” she whispered, “Jerusha 
Tabb is approaching. She publishes all she hears.” 

Miss Honora Thurston smoothed out the folds of her 
yellow moire velour gown — pulled up the long gloves 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


101 


over her reddish-yellow arms as if preparing to defend 
herself. She was not conscious of it, but she was an 
utter coward and did nothing unless instigated to it by 
will power stronger than her own. As she lifted her 
large head slightly the light struck her neck beneath 
the enameled chin, exposing its natural oleomargarine 
hues. She did not speak often, but she now said in her 
slow tones, ^‘It’s a shameless sheet that she is trying to 
model hers after. The most scandalous French papers 
are as the Gospels to Eabelais to it — what she wants 
Washington to be exploited in the same fashion for is 
more than I understand.” 

“Have a glass of punch?” asked Miss Thurston, in the 
not overbrisk tones of the correspondent of Topics, as 
she approached. She did not lift an eyelid. 

“Indeed, yes,” said Miss Tabb, taking the cup eagerly, 
“I need sustenance if ever woman did — in some shape.” 

“Yours is a busy life,” ventured Miss Thurston ami- 
ably; “to be able to look out for oneself is something 
to be desired.” 

Miss Tabb cast a glance over the regal array of Miss 
Thurston and then up and down the breadths of her own 
faded, made-over lavender silk, which she had fondly 
described as heliotrope until compelled to let in a pair of 
magenta sleeves, 


102 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


''It’s more desirable to have some one look out for 
you,” snapped Miss Tabb tartly. "I may some day — at 
the present moment I need facts even more than I require 
food and raiment. Where are the boys to-night?” turn- 
ing toward Mercy. "I was under the impression that 
Horace and Ross adored the ground that you trod upon,” 
looking at Miss Thurston. 

"My husband will be in later,” said Mercy, who 
colored slightb". 

"On the whole,” said Miss Tabb, addressing Miss 
Thurston, "I believe that I had rather have pluck than 
brain. You see the importance of pluck illustrated every 
day. Horace, for instance, failed at the university, while 
Ross went through like a flash. Horace has had a walk- 
over, and Ross has made a mess of it. Pluck is the 
thing. Ross was devoted to you, Honora. He can’t 
understand the importance of cultivating the wealthy 
classes or he would be here to-night. No nouveaux riche 
in this company sure, ” she laughed wickedly and resumed 
with a nod at Mercy: "Ross seems full of engagements. 
Tell him I say if he fails to get me the cards he promised 
I will give him away. He’ll know what I mean. Why, 
I thought that boy a perfect pink of propriety.” 

Mercy felt a sudden shadow fall about her, but she 
answered quietly ; 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


103 


‘‘He seldom has an opportunity to make engagements. ” 
“Which proves how much you know about it, my dear. 
Well, don’t be alarmed, the lady in question affects tre- 
mendous prudence — if she is a little overfond of cards. 
When she first came to town I was curious to see what 
this ‘diamond expert’ looked like. I wanted to surprise 
her, and instead I surprised myself. I had no idea I was 
to meet an old acquaintance, although I told the man at 
the door I was a friend of long standing. And when I 
was ushered in who should be standing in the middle of 
the fioor but Adele de Cherville — (I’ll never forget how 
that girl used to pelt me with cherries in summer, and 
snowball me in winter as I tried to get a little exercise) 
— with her skirts drawn back and her left foot on a sheet 
of white paper, while a man with a pencil drew the out- 
line of her foot, mark you ! I had no fine-drawn scruples, 
but 1 had a great mind to slam tl 3 doors and retire. On 
refiection I stayed and saw the performance out. She 
laughed when she saw me and treated the whole thing as 
a piece of fine humor. But she’ll never be a Trilby. I 
suppose she has posed for as many different characters in 
her time as there have been many different people to pose 
for Trilby. I do not believe that another woman on the 
face of the earth could do as Adele de Cherville has done 
all her life and hold on to a shred of reputation.” 


104 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Both listeners were much of the same mind. ‘‘If she 
has held on to it — it will go now. ’’ 

“I am afraid she has offended you/' said Miss Thurs- 
ton. 

“Offend me? Why, she couldn't offend me. And 
what is more, I doubt if I could offend her. She's as 
tough as whit-leather. I told her in a room full of peo- 
ple that as she was expert — doubtless inheriting the 
talents of her father — that I would be glad if she would 
help me toward forming a class to instruct young women 
how to wear feathers and fur boas properly. She bore my 
insinuations finely — was obliged to do it.'' 

Miss Honora Thurston while listening had continued 
to supply the requirements made of the bowl of punch 
with the same impassive face. Both Mercy and herself 
were relieved when Miss Jerusha deserted them for the 
more congenial society of Captain Billy Stedman. They 
exchanged glances. 

“Was there ever anything to equal her?'' asked Miss 
Thurston. 

Captain Billy Stedman looked better than usual. He 
was carefully groomed in an evening suit, a little too long 
and large for his short, thick proportions. His scant 
hair was brushed in place, and his pronounced Eoman 
nose w’as even a shade brighter than his hair. Loss of 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


105 


hearing was the only ill acknowledged as life advanced. 
To-night he was in a seventh heaven of delight. Poverty 
was a passing dream — a m.ere bubble on the ocean of 
years. 

""Now, captain,” said Miss Jerusha, ""you are the very 
man I’m after. Tell me something racy.” 

They were seated on a couch, sipping punch, which 
she had ordered him to bring. ""Tell me while you can. 
You’ll be tipsy before this ends, but bear in mind one 
thing, my friend, Elizabeth has no spare bed for any of 
us now — any of us, unless it is Honora Thurston — but 
she” — giving the captain a nudge, ""she has money. It’s 
the way of the world. ” 

The captain regarded a nudge as an essentially vulgar 
gestui’e, and as he was enjoying the distinction of 
madam’s confidence, and a visit to the capital through 
her kindness, he stiffly replied : ‘"Madam will soon have 
things going in the old style,” he said, ""sea talent all 
goes into the railroads these days. It requires a cool 
head, quickness of decision, watchfulness, and executive 
ability to be the captain of a vessel, and the same exactly 
is expected of a railroad conductor. ’ ’ 

""So you expect Elizabeth’s influence to procure you a 
conductor’s place? Why, it’s the young men who run 
the railroads. You couldn’t run a street car.” 


106 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘^Well/’ he said wearily, ‘‘when the madam gets on 
her feet again we shall all live once more. 

“I hope so, but I doubt it,’’ said she. “See that man 
over there?” indicating the poet, Winfield Scott Long. 
“He is as mad as a March hare.” 

“Yes, since Honora threw him over, fifteen years ago,” 
said the captain. “He has a superb collection of sonnets 
dedicated to her. You know, I suppose, of our latest 
discovery — a man who has been an artist can go on paint- 
ing pictures in an asylum, or the man who has been a 
writer can go on writing sensibly, but put the same man 
to digging potatoes or making boots and confusion 
ensues.” 

“Fortunately for Winfield,” said she, “he will even- 
tually have to choose between a cell at St. Elizabeth’s and 
the workhouse. His verses will never sell.” 

“Have you heard him recite his ‘Angel of Light’ or his 
‘Mistress of Doom?’ ” 

“No, Heaven be praised,” said she. “I hear enough 
about X-rays germs and other noxious things to make my 
flesh creep without that. Tell me something I don’t 
know. I tell you I am hard up. ” 

Cousin Billy braced himself. “You remember, I sup- 
pose, the tremendous sensation that an affair in Paris 
created in our quiet neighborhood some years ago? 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


lot 

Adele de Cherville’s mother had succeeded in marrying 
her off to a wealthy Englishman in Paris, but she could 
not prevent her flirting openly after that — neither could 
he. She had attached to her train one of our countrymen 
who was an art student in Paris. Her husband, frantic 
with jealousy, drank himself crazy with absinthe, dragged 
her about by the hair, etc., and finally fought the Ameri- 
can — a duel with pistols. Both died from wounds. 
Then she had trouble to maintain her establishment and 
position in society. She was the daughter of a gambler 
and naturally turned to the desperate resource of play. 
She becamp entangled with a French adventurer who had 
nothing to recommend him — no real claim to title or any- 
thing else, he affected. She would have married him, 
but was prevented by the intervention of Count de Viny 
of the French Legation.” 

Cousin Billy had risen to his feet in all the pride of 
reciting something really worth hearing. 

‘'Captain William Stedman,” said Miss Jerusha Tabb 
severely, when he had finished his recital, “sit down, 
compose yourself. You won’t do. You had better go to 
bed. You are drunk. You told me that stirring little 
episode ten days ago and it was published at once in 
Topics,'* 

“Bless me! bless me!” blustered the much-flustered 


108 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


gentleman, as he raised his ear trumpet, ‘‘I hope you 
mentioned no names, madam?’" 

Every one knew who told the story when it was said 
to be ascribed to an old sea pirate.” 

The red blood crept slowly over the honest face of Cap- 
tain William Stedman. He was not a man given to oaths 
in polite society — thumps of his walking stick was his 
mode of emphasizing remarks when excited. He groaned 
in spirit at this juncture, desiring nothing on earth so 
much as complete isolation in some Virginia stubble field, 
where he might pour forth such a volley of expletives as 
might blast the reputation of Jerusha Tabb forever. 
‘"The old tabby cat,” he thought, eyeing her, “there is 
not much of her, but I wish there was less.” To her he 
said ceremoniously, after some silence : 

“Jerusha, for a person of your years, you strangely 
lack discretion. ” After this strain they sat on in silence. 

“Oh, there comes the colonel,” she said at length, tilt- 
ing her eyeglasses, as two tall, soldierly-looking men 
crossed the floor. “Yes, General Broadstream — two live 
men. Now I shall hear something.” 

Miss Jerusha Tabb at once engaged the colonel. 
Another man present met and warmly grasped the hand 
of the general. 

“Why,” said he, “I have not seen you since we were 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


109 


in camp together at the farm of John Minor Botts. You had 

ordered some of Captain A ’s men in the guardhouse 

for stealing pigs. He came to your tent in high dudgeon. 
‘Do you know/ asked he, ^do you know, sir, that you 
have had men from the first families of Virginia confined 
in jail?’ ” 

“1 hope I was not unjust,” said the veteran, ‘‘but I 
know to my cost one of those young men came near spoil- 
ing my scheme of life — after that.” 

“Why, how in the world ” 

“He proved to be the uncle of the girl I was courting, 
and he exerted all the influence he had against me.” 

The two old soldiers, laughed and with cordial manner 
passed on to the refreshment table, and from thence to 
the doorstep for a breath of fresh air, or a whiff of tobacco 
smoke. 

Another large, portly man in a long black coat 
and black slouch hat of the 1860 period was about to 
ascend the steps as the other two appeared, and when 
about halfway up the long stone flight a little girl ran for- 
ward in the dim light, extending a basket filled with pins, 
needles, matches, etc. Her piping tones reached the 
gentleman as he stopped, regarding her fixedly. 

“No, my poor child,” said he, “I cannot help you. If 
I had the money I would give it to you to go home and 


110 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


go to bed, but I haven’t a cent. I am a poor Confederate 
from Oregon.” 

The deep, ringing voice of the speaker, although not 
loud, arrested the attention of the other two men, who 
stood on the doorstep smoking as they exchanged reminis- 
cences. 

“A poor Confederate from Oregon,” said one drolly, 
coming forward; “that has the ring of an angel from the 
Inferno.” 

“1 didn’t come from below exactly,” returned the 
sonorous tones, “nor from the house of Dante at Flor- 
ence, but I feel much as we did just after the war, when 
we all had to whisper — or as does the ex-convict at the 
end of his term of penal servitude. He comes out into 
the world, you know, resolved to earn a living by honest 
labor and to rehabilitate himself in the respect and con- 
fidence of his fellow-men, but ” 

“That has the sound of satire,” said one. “How are 
you, Eochester ? Lane Eochester, General Broadstream. ’ ’ 

“Your father was vice-president of the United States 
before the late war,” said General Broadstream. 

“Yes,” said Eochester, “on that score I have been sit- 
ting around the parks for the last three months waiting 
for an ofllce to come to me. I have been afraid to walk 
the streets by daylight — didn’t want my friends to recog- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Ill 


nize me in this plight.” He ran his hand lightly down 
the bosom of his closely buttoned frock coat, ‘‘But I have 
come to pay my respects to Madam Thornton neverthe- 
less.” 

Whereupon the three made their way to the parlors. 

“Do you ever see Average?” asked Kochester of Gen- 
eral Broadstream, as the trio proceeded. 

“Oh, yes,” the last replied. “We were boys together 
at West Point, you know, served in the old army, fou'ght 
against each other in the last war, and dine together 
whenever he comes to town.” 

“Made a splendid cavalry officer.” 

“Yes,” replied Broadstream, “he came down to Vir- 
ginia a few years ago to make a speech. He wanted to 
pay me a visit and was a little doubtful about his route ; 
a guest at my table suggested: ‘General, you tell him to 
come just as he and his men came during the war — 
straight over the mountain — he can’t miss.’ ” 

As the three men entered the room looking for Madam 
Thornton, Mercy had started, hoping one would be Boss. 
She had been watching the door for the last hour. Miss 
Betty Summers was enrapturing the company with the 
Tannhauser aria “O Lovely Halls,” to be followed by 
“Summer Fields. ” She had explained to her listeners, 
“To quote Blind Tom, ‘I will now tell you — ^what — what 


112 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


the stars — have — said to me. ' ' ’ After this she said the 
blind pianist would seat himself with a prelude of exqui- 
site chords, and suddenly burst into brilliant, wildly gay 
music at one moment, and the next such heart-breaking 
melodies as never before or since the days ‘‘when Music, 
heavenly maid, was young.** Mercy, who had heard all 
this often, had seen Tom dancing about in the moonlight 
in his master’s garden — his wild antics, his protruding 
eyeballs — had seen him eating ferociously in the little 
cottage set apart for his use by the fine old Southern 
gentleman, had seen his gnome-like figure leaping from 
bush to bush in a wild ecstasy of abandon as he sang 
some of his nightly serenades. To Mercy all this repeti- 
tion was tiresome in the extreme ; while she had appreci- 
ated the music-compelling power of the blind boy pianist, 
she was annoyed to see a woman of Madam Thornton’s 
fine sense surrounded in this way — laboring under delu- 
sion. She felt certain these people cared nothing for her 
mother-in-law. They were animated and cordial — too 
much so. The more animated they became the more 
storm-tossed they appeared. 

The sufferings of Miss Honora Thurston were visible to 
every eye. She would burst the stays of her frock if this 
thing kept up much longer. The broad face was crim- 
son, while great beads of perspiration were standing out 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


113 


upon her forehead. Some of the guests had not cared to 
eat or drink — some had feasted, while a few wan, wasted 
individuals had not had their appetite satisfied. 

‘^Things are rarely equal,” thought Mercy, as she bade 
madam good-night. Eoswell had at last given her a ' 
signal from the door. 

"‘It’s early, dear,” said madam; “do stay and hear 
Betty through. You missed the beautiful music Carlo 
Dent gave us. If Betty can make a success in concert 
with him this winter, her fortune is made. Do help 
us all you can. ’ ’ 

But Mercy knew that Boswell was waiting for her in 
the hall, and impatient to get awajL she slipped out the 
first opportunity. She found him pacing near the outer 
doors, his great coat collar pushed up about his ears, his 
hat pulled over his eyes. 

“My,” said she, “how brigandish you are!” 

“I suspect I’ll have to go to Sicily instead of China,” 
said he with a yawn, as she drew on her sandals. 

Then he caught the eyes of his mother bent upon him, 
as she stood near the doors of her rooms. He waved his 
hand to her with a smile and a good-night salutation. 
She cast a glance or two more in his direction, hesitated, 
and came toward him. 


114 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


'‘Koss, you scamp/’ said she, ‘‘what makes you forget 
me? Won’t you speak to your cousin Honora?” 

He kissed his mother warmly, assured her that he 
would call upon his cousin — he saw she was much of a 
belle to-night — told her that he thought of her every day 
of his life, not to mention messages through Mercy. 

“I have reason to mistrust a message, you know, Koss — 
none better. ” She gave his arm an affectionate rap with 
her fan, as she turned to Mercy, who was stooping over 
her india-rubbers. “One night there was a company at 
Thornleigh and a crowded house — the old times when 
our friends arrived in a big coach with their children and 
their servants, perhaps to stay a night, perhaps to remain 
a month or more. Among the guests was Dr. McJay 
and his son. Pressed for room, I put the gentleman in a 
chamber with my boys. The next morning, I told one 
of the little darkies from the cabins to go upstairs with a 
polite message to the effect that as the wood fire had 
probably not warmed the room sufficiently for the comfort 
of the elderly gentleman, he must rise at his leisure. 
What did Mose say, Eoss?” 

“He shoved his woolly head in the door without plea of 
any sort, and sang out, ‘Marse Eoss, ole miss sez tell dat 
young Jay bird ter cum down ter breakfus’, an’ tell de 
ole jail-bird ter stay in dat bed till he’s call fer.’ ” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


115 


They laughed and lingered a little, when madam said 
good-night affectionately and went back to her guests, bid- 
ding them adieu with the bored look of duty accom- 
plished. As she was shaken by the hand and listened to 
the formula of words, each saying how much they had 
enjoyed the evening, she sighed when they had trooped 
out, and had walked or been driven home ; perhaps she 
could surmise some of the remarks that would be made. 

Koswell Thornton was walking arm and arm with his 
wife toward the last herdic. 

‘‘It’s like mythology,’’ said he, ‘‘Tacitus in the con- 
sulship of Paulus Pabius. ” His mind ran upon consul- 
ates. “The miraculous bird known to the world as the 
phoenix, after disappearing for a series of ages, revisited 
Egypt. It was attended in its flight by a group of vari- 
ous birds, all attracted by the novelty, and gazing with 
wonder upon so remarkable an appearance. In all sober- 
ness,” he went on, “I cannot see how a sensible woman 
— and we all know mamma to be a sensible woman, with 
a head as clear as a stream in midsummer — can subject 
herself to anything so utterly out of order.” 

“I do not look at it in that light,” said Mercy. “Of 
course it is a matter of regret that mamma should make 
an effort to retain a hold upon society as she knew it. 
The whole fabric is altered. But if it pleases her, where 


116 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


is the real harm ? Nothing could be more innocent than 
her assembly of old friends. However carried out of 
themselves, they are invariably ladies and gentlemen, 
always well-mannered. To me it is far more pitiable 
than absurd.” 

‘‘Horace and Annette have a perfect horror of the 
whole thing.” 

“Horace and his wife look at everything from a high 
and mighty standpoint. They impute motives, even 
actions, to mamma of which she is never guilty. They 
say she either pawns or fails to pay. Both are unjust.” 

“I hope so — I believe so indeed,” said he more cheer- 
fully. 

“Honora,” said the madam, when they were left alone 
and she had proceeded to put some of the lights out and 
lower the folding beds — one a wardrobe of mahogany by 
day, the other a chiffonier — in the south end of the 
rooms. “I was getting uneasy about my gas bill,” then 
she laughed, then she sighed deeply. Miss Honora was 
struggling to free herself from the stays that tortured the 
life out of her accumulation of flesh, before she took her 
nightly potion of obesity pills, consolidated from the 
German Imperial Springs water. 

“Ah,” said madam, speaking again, “it’s all a tremen- 
dous farce. Nothing upon earth would induce me to 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


11 ? 

expose my poverty in this way but the vain hope that 
some time some man will come straggling in whom I 
may interest in the sale of my quarries. To-night when 
Kochester came my heart gave a bound. A tramway is 
all that is needed. I could do so much good — I could 
make Boss and Mercy comfortable. I could restore the 
old place and spend the rest of my days '' 

‘^Elizabeth/* interrupted Miss Honora in a stifling 
tone, ‘‘help me out of this dress, for pity’s sake.” 

Madam did as she was requested to do, then extin- 
guished the last gas jet. “It’s no use,” she reflected, 
“Honora will go her own road, and throw away all she 
has upon some fortune hunter — as I — ” Then she 
laid her poor tired head upon the pillow, her eyes 
closed fitfully, but not with sleep. “Ah,” thought she, 
between the words of a prayer, “I wish I knew what is to 
become of me — I do indeed. I have never lamented my 
youth, but now I see — no matter how wretched, while 
youth lasts, some hope, some sweetness is left. But to 
grow old day by day, neglected, poor, forsaken, to come 
to be a burden to oneself and to others — I cannot bear 
it — I cannot bear it.” 


118 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


CHAPTEK VI. 

Several days bad elapsed since the reception of Madam 
Thornton. Koswell Thornton was still thinking more of 
Mercy than of any other person in the world at this stage 
of existence. She was not in her usual spirits. She was 
indifferent about the ball, which was no great wonder 
under the circumstances. She went out very little. If 
at all it was to some function from four to seven, in the 
same gown in which she attended church on Sundays. No 
one who heard her sweet, vibrant tones in the Jubilate 
could have guessed that a secret was weighing her down, 
could have said that she failed in any of the small matters 
that came under the head of daily duties. But her hus- 
band read her heart more clearly. His flitting interest 
in Mrs. Eose-Eodney was yery much in abeyance — the 
love-making such as it was, had been chiefly on her part. 
He knew quite as much of the world as she, and he felt 
on going from the presence of Adele to Mercy much as a 
man must who comes from a gilded saloon into the clear 
light of day. To be on his guard against a woman — to 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


119 


try and make the best of a rather questionable condition 
was not naturally agreeable to him. But he was about 
as far from being a happy man as his wife was from being 
a happy woman. 

In this state of perplexity, it was more than a relief to 
him when his brother Horace drove to his door in a cab, 
and insisted he should come with him at once. The 
action betrayed haste on the part of his brother, who was 
seldom conveyed to or fro unless in his private brougham. 

‘'Grayson has been appointed minister to South 
America,’’ he declared; “he wants you to go with him 
as private secretary. No time to lose,” he continued as 
Boswell hesitated. 

“What about China?” asked Boswell. 

“We’ll turn China down for the present. We can’t 
have too many irons in the fire, I tell you. Come, get 
your hat.” 

A few hours later three men walked briskly away from 
the entrance of the Executive Mansion. 

“It’s all right, my boy, he is as good as there,” said 
the minister to South America, as he slapped Horace 
Thornton familiarly on the shoulder. 

“Can’t thank you enough,” said Horace Thornton, 
greatly gratified; “I was thinking it strange you had 
not called at my house lately. I asked you to meet our 


120 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


distinguished friend — you remember? But I see your 
heart is in the right place.” 

‘‘Always. Blood's thicker than water. I knew you 
knew that if you came down to my place I would be glad 
to see you. You can’t conceive how one’s old constitu- 
ents follow up and haunt a fellow — simply riddle one. 
Besides, I’ve been full of this thing — South America, you 
know.” 

“All right, old fellow. Be sure you have the Spanish 
language all right,” said Mr. Horace Thornton, as they 
parted. 

After these civilities were exchanged Boswell Thorn- 
ton’s confidence was very much restored in himself and 
the world. The brothers were in a state of high gratifi- 
cation. Horace on his part was in high spirits, but 
hardly knew what he should charge his brother to do or 
not to do. The Chinese question he had studied, the 
South American was one entirely new. Boswell was 
conscious that Horace was talking to him at a great rate, 
but he only heard half of what he w^as saying. 

“Now one thing,” said Horace, as they prepared to 
separate, “there must be no question about the proper 

outfit. Go to B , order a morning suit, anything and 

everything that may enable you to appear as a well- 
dressed man, from now on.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


121 


Eoswell’s heart and brain were full of one thought — 
Hhe reaction this certain stroke of good fortune must 
bring about for Mercy. He decided she should be the 
first to hear the news from him, and whatever purchases 
or preparations were to be made, she should share with 
him. They spent a very happy evening — they planned 
with the freshness and gayety of children, let loose from 
restraint, a bright and untrammeled future — were happy 
traveling as they did — in due time — over the face of the 
whole world together. 

Koswell and his wife had decided upon what disposi- 
tion should be made of their effects, and also that when 
orders reached him they would persuade Madam Thorn- 
ton to accompany them to Guatemala. They could not 
bear the thought of leaving her behind, perhaps to suffer 
in their absence. They waited. This state of things 
continued some time. Eoswell and Mercy were quite 
happy, however; friction was forgotten; they were 
united, interested and constantly together, now that the 
future held some promise and things had been decided 
for them by fate. 

In a few weeks, however, this little breeze from 
heaven,” was broken and shifted by the abrupt entrance 
of Horace Thornton upon the scene. Horace, with a 
folded paper in his hand, which he wrathfully unfolded 


122 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


and from which he as wrathfully read aloud a few sen- 
tences. Another, quite a different man from Mr. Koswell 
Thornton, had been appointed private secretary to the 
minister to South America. The blow was terrible. But 
it had to be borne. ‘‘I could horsewhip Grayson,’' said 
Horace disgustedly. ^'ITl cable him right off to know 
what this means.” He was as good as his word and was 
rewarded by a reply that stated Mr. Koswell Thornton 
was by no means to withdraw’ his application. Evidently 
this appointment had not been confirmed by the presi- 
dent or the senate. But when the message arrived Kos- 
well had already recalled his papers and renewed his 
application for a consulate to China. 

‘‘Never mind,” consoled Horace, “I distrust Grayson. 
I believe firmly that when I reminded him of the Spanish 
language, he w’ent off in pursuit of a man that could 
speak it — knowung that the president would be influenced 
by the fact. ITl pay him back some day.” 

Koswell, however, with nothing in sight, had not 
borne revulsion or defeat well. For aw^hile he cast about 
for diversion and different interest. Mercy resumed the 
even tenor of her way with more ease apparently. If 
she found it difficult to re-adapt herself, she still made 
the effort, and with results naturally. In time Koswell 
became restless, petulant and very nearly desperate. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


123 


And when, in time, Mrs. Rose-Eodney suggested, in a 
sweetly-worded note, that it was just possible she might 
be able to put his plans forward, advance them materially 
perhaps, he easily fell into the trap. 

In the morning-room of Mrs. Eose-Eodney the noon 
sun was falling on the breadths of an art square, shone 
upon the folds of her satin teagown which fell in grace- 
ful curves upon the floor. When Monsieur Thornton was 
announced by the French servant she answered indiffer- 
ently that she would be with him presently. In reality a 
sense of exultation took possession of her. She was per- 
fectly dressed and knew her gown showed to advantage 
the strong points of her figure and complexion, the 
threads of her golden hair. But had it been otherwise 
she would have entered the drawing-room as leisurely. 
Eoswell had been conducted through heavy portieres 
painted halfway up with coat-of-arms. He was seated 
with his back to the light, holding his hat in hand. He 
might have been paying a call of state. And she came 
toward him much as the sun comes from the cloud — 
slowly, gracefully, then a brilliant gleam. 

"‘I have taken you at your word,’’ said he, as he rose 
to his feet. 

She motioned him to put his things aside. 

“I was afraid I was not to see you again,” said she 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


lU 

gently, bending her head to one side in a bird-like ges- 
ture familiar, and gazing into his face intently. “Now 
that you are here, I should like to exert what hypnotic 
power I possess and keep you.” 

“I am at your service for a few hours,” said he, smil- 
ing, “after that I fear you would find me rather a poor 
subject for mystic force.” 

“Some subjects are much more talented than others of 
course,” said she. “You are not a skeptic, however, and 
perhaps may be classed with the number of the age who 
simply let others do their thinking for them.” 

“If exceedingly disagreeable, I should like that,” said 
he thoughtfully. 

She was very sweet, very alluring in her manner toward 
him. She talked a great deal, incessantly, told some 
droll stories, reminded him of many things forgotten — 
one reminiscence followed another. Even if what she said 
had been without interest, she should not have wearied 
him. He was eager to listen, eager to be interested* 
The subdued tones of her voice enfolded him as might a 
passionate caress. 

“You will be present at the ball,” said he after awhile, 
“and I may have my share of the cotillion?” 

“Dances signify favor — old friends should have a 
claim,” said she. She regarded him with interest. Was 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


125 


this a conquest desired or mere caprice? Had this man, 
still young and handsome — a pattern of elegance in fact 
from the crown of his head to the patent-tipped toes of 
his shoes, and back again to the chrysanthemum in his 
buttonhole — had this man forgotten? Had he forgotten ^ 
how he had one day sworn love and — ridden away ? He 
had looked toward the doors as he was about to speak. 
Nothing escaped her. She made note of this small indi- 
cation of anxiety. 

‘‘We shall be even better friends,” said he. “Society 
women are usually artificial — not to be relied on. But 
you would not deceive one you cared for?” 

“Not if I cared really — but ” 

“What?” 

“Nothing now. Tell me about the social code under 
discussion. The English ambassador thinks there should 
be a code of etiquette. Certain leaders think a conven- 
tion should be called.” 

“I have heard nothing to that effect. Some such non- 
sense rises to the top of every new administration.” 

“A master of ceremonies should be appointed, how- 
ever. Foreigners look on your country too much as a 
place of exile. You are really quite an important people. 
Etiquette is bound to be different here from what it is in 
any other city of the world, The women in official cir- 


126 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


cles are bound to be at a loss during their first season. 
Each administration brings people who either do not 
knoAV or else think they know it all. The social ball has 
not begun to spin freely as yet, but I am told that Mrs. 
Senator Dennis was quite furious yesterday. Mrs. Plain 
had an elegant luncheon and gave Mrs. Eepresentative 
Hight the seat of honor at table, while Mrs. Senator 
Dennis and Mrs. Chief Justice were placed quite below 
the salt.” 

‘'But you need not bother about such minor details? 
The world of fashion accords to you the topmost round in 
the social scale.” 

“Yes. I confess that to me matters are simplified. 
The way of the trangressor is hard at foreign courts — a 
lapse is a criminal offense. But I usually please myself. ” 

“The code of the sex,” said he, smiling. 

“Have you seen your mother lately?” 

“On Sunday. "Why?” 

“She does as she pleases, does she not? I hope you 
are like her.” 

“Do you see the resemblance?” 

“In appearance, yes.” 

“I hope I resemble her in one other way,” said he, 
leaning forward — the blood did not stir in her face. “I 
hope you like me as well as you do my mother, ” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


127 


was perfectly devoted to Madam Thornton/' she 
declared, ^"and I am still. I often recall our visit to 
grandfather’s place after he died, and a few days spent at 
— Thornleigh — was it? Mamma had much to attend to 
arranging affairs and often left me in your mother’s care; 
she was a most charming companion, even for a girl of 
my age.” 

The eyes of Roswell grew soft. His mother was only 
seventeen years older than his brother Horace, and he 
remembered that when both lads had reached her shoul- 
der in height, she was still young and beautiful. 

‘Hn the morning she said to me, ‘Adele, would you 
like a little party to-night, dear?’ And when the sun 
went down there would be dances and beautiful ices and 
music on the old negro’s fiddle. We might sit on broken 
chairs, but such china and silver and glass! Virginians 
could do without comforts, the wood fires burned low in 
the high-ceiled rooms long before day — hot water was 
dispensed from the kitchen in a tin pail — but luxury 
was on every side.” 

‘"A fine, hardy people, all the same — the old stock. ” 
Then he closed this discussion of his people abruptly. 
It was not agreeable to him. "‘Well,” he said, “what is 
it brings two people together again after years of sepa- 
ration — and as if they had never been parted?” 


lag 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘'That subtle attraction, that really never dies?’’ asked 
she, lifting her lids innocently. 

“That is what I mean.’’ 

“Would you have me believe this?” She bent her eyes 
upon him seriously. 

He was silent. He had confessed as much as she de- 
sired at present. He was looking much less tranquil 
than when she had entered the room — much less like a 
fashion-plate. There was a moment or so of silence, 
when she asked in a commonplace tone : 

“Did you read what Topics had to say about me?” 

“Yes,” he said, “Jerusha Tabb has always deserved 
capital punishment. ’ ’ 

“Celebrity must pay its wage. There was some truth 
in the stories.” 

•“I am not curious,” said he. 

‘•‘I have loved but one man in my life — not Kose- 
Kodney — and there was another ” 

“For whom you cared?” 

“For whom I cared a little. He was my shadow.” 

It did not occur to Boswell at the time, moved by her 
mood, that there was anything out of the way in this 
acknowledgment. He looked at her compassionately. 

“You must have suffered,” said he. 

“Love makes a woman suffer,” said she, “both Kodney 


A CONSUL TO CHiNiv 


1^9 


and the other man died. I was glad to he 3Dree~aUhough 
the last attracted me. You can imagine the rest, t have 
dreamed of an ideal affection all my life, but I shall never 
find it.’’ 

Koswell was silent, oppressed by a conflict of confused 
thoughts. '"You have no faith then in what is described 
as true love?” 

"I have never encountered it. If I could, my whole 
course of life would be different. Everything in my 
experience has gone to prove there is no such thing as 
disinterested affection. It is a sentiment. Keal life is 
made up of caresses, perhaps love, before marriage — cares 
and coal bills after. ’ ’ 

She was never more seductive than in one of these fits 
of satire and fantastic rebellion, repudiating past, pres- 
ent and future. A very Tantalus as far as any approach 
to real feeling was concerned. 

From sheer ennui Eoswell had allowed himself to be 
beguiled — permitted her to weave the web of Penelope 
and as dexterously turn the course of the subject when 
she desired. 

"What do you do with yourself all day?” she presently 
inquired. 

"When not at my office, I am with Horace — but now 
that you are going to let me come ” 


130 


A CONSUL TO CHINA, 


‘‘Tes?’^ 

come— that’s all.” 

brain wave in the right direction. I want you to 
see my ball gown. It’s to be of white moire velour, 
embroidered with lovers’ knots.” 

"‘You will wear the symbol then, if you do not believe 
in the sentiment?” 

“The way of the world, however.” 

“By the way, Modjeska is to come. Can you go with 
me?” 

“To see the interesting ruin? Yes.” 

“But a lovely ruin. And to supper? People go, you 
know, every night of their lives after the theater.” 

He had not a ruble in his pocket that he could call his 
own. The banknotes of Horace were still there. AVas 
he to cover the expense of tickets, carriage, supper, with 
another man’s money? 

Her hesitation was of course premeditated. Inwardly 
she rejoiced. She had brought him by easy stages to 
the point desired. He should be seen with her in public. 

The brief winter afternoon was waning into twilight. 
A reddish, golden reflection against the drawn curtains 
warned him that the sun was setting. It had been high 
noon when he came into that room. 

“I may call for you AVednesday at eight o’clock?” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


131 


‘'To be happy, a man must have his way. Is it not 
so?’’ 

Eoswell rose to his feet, holding out his hand to her. 
He raised her slim, cool fingers and pressed his lips 
against them. “Good-by,” said he, and went out with- 
out a sound, closing the doors carefully behind him. 
Mrs. Kose-Eodney smiled as she noted his painstaking 
care. As he groped for the latch of the outer door, his 
hands trembled violently. When he found it he could 
hardly lift it. As he let himself out into the open air, 
which was light and fresh, after an atmosphere of con- 
densed sweetness, he gasped for breath, pulled at his 
coat, gave his cane a swing, and plunged hurriedly on, 
with the rest of the people, homeward bound. 


m 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


CHAPTEK VII. 

Roswell Thornton spent some time upon a careful 
toilet the evening he was to escort Mrs. Rose-Eodney to 
the theater. He was beginning to throw about her an 
atmosphere of romanticism as captivating as unenduring 
— the more subtle from its unreality. In this woman 
apd her nineteenth century skepticism, her latent ego- 
tism, her advanced opinions and her pronounced beauty, 
he fancied he had discovered a blending of the woman 
and angel. Her splendid tenacity, coolness, learning 
and knowledge of the world was of itself broad experi- 
ence. And so far from feeling at any disadvantage when 
with her, she put him upon his mettle — he was at his 
best intellectually. Life put on a fresh phase — hope, 
aspiration, and ambition revived — a new ambition superior 
to all material condition. Perfectly at ease with himself 
and the world in her presence, he no longer dwelt upon 
the sad face of Mercy. There was no special trend. He 
was simply drifting — enjoying the good the gods pro- 
vided. He was aware that a woman of these marked at- 
tajinments exacted something out of the common ordei: 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


133 


of the man she favored. And his present aim was to 
please, to charm by devotion, as other men would do by 
diplomatic skill or lavish expenditure. The possibilities 
opened up by his reflections were many and varied. His 
mind was filled with scenes. 

As eight o’clock, the hour of his appointment with her 
approached, he felt the cold chill of nervous excitement. 
He, however, thought that he should have no difficulty in 
keeping himself in hand. Within a quarter of an hour 
of the time of starting he seated himself stiffiy — the per- 
fection of his dress was not to be disturbed — and strove 
to look over a book that Mercy had been asked to review 
— but he was not capable of fixing his attention. It Vv as 
rather a daring thing he was about to do. He had con- 
stituted himself the escort of a conspicuous figure, 
openly, in public. Some freshly written sheets of manu- 
script were lying under cover on Mercy’s desk. Her 
publisher had asked for a novel of the Colonial period, 
portraying the life and manners of the time. This was a 
decided score. When instead of offering one’s wares, 
handing them around, an offer is made for them by 
some standard house, one may consider oneself on the 
right road to success. He glanced over the opening 
chapter, yawned and put it down. Mercy had been per- 
suaded to spend an evening with the Horace Thorntons. 


134 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


He had told her she could be of use in arranging the 
hanging of certain pictures, and she had let him take her 
there directly after dinner. This had enabled him to 
make his toilet leisurely and carefully. Annette’s car- 
riage would bring Mercy home somewhere about ten 
o’clock. In the meantime, he said he would take advan- 
tage of the evening and see some friends officially. It 
was really better to see them out of hours. He calculated 
to be at home by eleven o’clock, but she must not be 
uneasy if he should be detained. Mercy knew how few 
men were as regularly at home at night as her husband 
and was easily misled. Sometimes he wondered why 
Mercy seemed dull to the truth, and sometimes he won- 
dered if he had made a mistake in selecting his wife. He 
needed some one to spur him forward. Adele was no 
doubt right in regard to early marriage. The duties and 
obligations of the matrimonial state were vague at this 
period, however. There was no reason why he should 
absolutely decline the friendship of a bright and beauti- 
ful woman. She amused and interested him. He had 
been befogged by vapors. He was longing to enjoy 
existence. 

That dreadful maid-of-all-work, Jemima, was shaking 
the foundation of things as she closed up for the night, 
with an everlasting hum, hum of verse the second ; 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


135 


Come 'long Moses, don’t git lost, 

My name’s written on high. 

Stretch out yo’ rod and come ’long ’cross. 

My name’s wrtten on high. ” 

He hated coarse noise, disliked confusion of any sort. 
Jemima thought he had gone with her mistress, of course. 
He gave himself a fling and left the house, whistling softly 
as he went. 

Under her long, costly wrapping Mrs. Kose-Eodney 
was robed to-night as might have been Antoinette de 
France for a costume ball. As they passed down the 
steps of her house to the carriage he assisted her with 
one hand upon her arm, and with the other carried a 
great bunch of Meteor roses. 

The avenue wore its usual aspect of life and movement 
to be seen under the glare of the electric lights on a 
cloudless nigiit. This city is always full of life on the 
reassembling of its forces, but thins at the end of the 
season, unless indeed an important inaugural event is 
ahead. The theater was not overfull, but there was a 
fashionable and well-fllled house. The atmosphere was 
heated, as is the temperature invariably where a crowd 
supplements the steam heat. As Eoswell Thornton and 
his companion reached their seats the first lines from 
the mouth of the matchless actress fell, welcomed by the 


136 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


audience with cool, well-tempered delight — a Washing- 
ton audience is rarely tumultuous. But this was undeni- 
ably intended for a welcome to a great artist — one of 
almost perpetual youth and fame, whose public had never 
wearied of her. To-night would be another triumph, as 
many as she had numbered in her role. 

About the end of the second act, while the music 
came now full, now faintly, Mrs. Kose-Kodney, leaning 
slightly toward Koswell, put her lorgnette in his hands. 
The long thread of gold to which it was attached became 
entangled. Their palms met. She had seemed a degree 
removed from him up to this. 

‘‘An actress never changes,’’ said she, "'by gaslight. 
It is the study of their life not to change.” 

"I know others,” said he, "who do not change, and 
make no great effort to preserve youth. You are as 
sweet and fresh in your morning gown, with a bunch of 
violets at your breast, as you were years ago.” 

"Do not go back to that time,” said she; "the memory 
of it is humiliation.” 

"What? A mere boy and girl flirtation?’* 

"How should you know?” asked she, in sweet, sub- 
dued tones. "Men never see — women reap the harvest. ” 
Her eyes and tones hardened. "You are not behind the 
scenes in my case either. Could you see me manipulat- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


137 


ing a gray hair or having my complexion put through its 
nightly course of massage — then ’’ 

His look was a rebuke. 

"‘I wonder if you remember the day we went through a 
drizzling rain to a picnic at Greenway Court?’’ she asked 
softly. 

‘‘I have not forgotten,” said he, avoiding her eyes. 

'"Does the office still stand in the yard?” 

"I have not been there since.” 

It was a relief to him when the "daughter of the ban- 
ished duke” retired from the stage and they had left the 
crowded building, its glittering arc and stars of gas jets 
behind. At supper, later on, there was no difficulty in 
securing a separate table, although there were many peo- 
ple to be served. Mrs. Eose-Kodney seemed to know 
every one who entered the room, and as Eoswell observed 
this he grew slightly constrained. He felt a twinge of 
conscience — a little uncomfortable. She was bowing 
right and left, and while he was anticipating some such 
result, he saw advancing toward them in a determined 
course Miss Jerusha Tabb, escorted by the colonel. 

"You, Koss?” said she, "and — yes — Mrs. Eose- 
Eodney. ” A swift crisp nod in that lady’s direction. 
"I wonder if you have forgotten the promise you made?” 

"It’s all right,” answered he coldly. 


138 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


''No, but it is not,” said she, "I want a card for the 
colonel. If he is brainy he can appreciate what a glass 
of wine is to an overtaxed mind.” 

"Miss Tabb does me honor — overrates my self- 
restraint,” said the colonel at her side, as he twirled 
leisurely the long gray mustache that covered a wicked 
smile. "I like a good glass of port, but I like even bet- 
ter the interchange of thought with a mind as unadulter- 
ated as hers.” 

"Now let the cat out of the bag,” said she, pulling at 
his sleeve. "Koss is no fool.” She had been bestowing 
inquisitive glances upon Boswell’s companion, who de- 
liberately turned in her seat to speak to an acquaintance 
behind her. "That’s the beauty,” whispered the colonel 
stagily, whereupon Miss Tabb made a significant grimace 
and felt it to be time to remove her property from danger. 
The colonel, staring, followed, and presently both were 
lost to sight behind some evergreens. 

"A delightful couple,” remarked Koswell, as some blue 
points were placed in front of them. 

"Charming,” said she, "I like the manners of the bat- 
tered politician better than those of the terrible woman. 
She despises me as much as she adored my father. She 
never fails to let me feel the effects of disappointed hopes 
’ — would puncture me to the soul if she could. ’ ’ 


A CONSUL TO CHINAv 


139 


^^She is already chairman of the Eetail Gossip Associa- 
tion. I wish she could be made superintendent of the 
Asylum for Superannuated Cats. It might relieve the 
tension. I suppose she will give the whole thing away?’’ 

‘^What can be the matter with his eyes?” asked Adele; 
‘Hhey are not crosswise, yet look "every way for Sun- 
day.’ ” 

""Onq upon you — the other on me.” 

""No wonder she values him. He collects an amount of 
information for her in that way. Do you pretend to tell 
me that you are never seen abroad except with — your 
wife?” 

""Since I come to think of it, I believe that is the way 
of it.” He motioned the waiter to refill her wineglass. 

""No,” said she, ""champagne disarranges my color 
scheme. What a saint you are ! I laughed in my sleeve 
when you told me with the gravest face how people "go 
to supper every night of their lives after the theater. ’ 
You were giving me an insight into customs here. You 
do not know Paris. I suppose you take it for granted 
that all these people are lovers ox the first flight of 
ecstasy — or properly attuned husbands and wives? I 
know better. The couple in front of us are pretty much 
the same as the one that left us a moment ago. They 
are useful to each other and occasionally take a little lark. 


140 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Both middle-aged. She is in office and a grass widow — 
which the fair Jerusha is not. More the pity — he is a 
government clerk and has a family somewhere north, 
south, east or west. The angel-faced youth over there is 
going at a fearful pace. His companion is a young soci- 
ety woman who dances divinely, bikes, plays tennis, golf, 
and can ride to the hounds. Next year it will be with 
some other reigning favorite that he dances the cotillion. 
His fortune is princely and he spends most of it abroad. 
His pace is killing him. That dark man on the other 
side is distinguished-looking, but he never smiles. Life 
has gone wrong with him. He is a Komanist and a 
prominent official, and lives apart, from his wife. He 
hates society, yet seeks it as persistently as do those two 
stout, overdressed women in rustling satins, with the 
two weak-looking little men in attendance. Still further 
on is your cousin Ernest Weston, lately elected to Con- 
gress. Is he with his wife? Ah, I see, his friend. Miss 
Templeton.’’ 

"'Yes,” he said, "but you have been picking out the 
sinned against and the sinners. Now go on with the 
saints. For instance, that slight dark man near the door 
is Carlo Dent — Virginia’s musical genius, of whom Pad- 
erewski made a great deal. He is all right. ” 


"As far as you know.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


141 


The conversation of Mrs. Eose-Rodney had been flip- 
pant enough for the time and place. Roswell detected 
the vein of bitterness beneath, and was not slow to inter* 
pret it. The wheels had not moved as smoothly for her 
along that inner groove of society as she pretended to 
him. He knew, none better, of a circle existing whose 
names and hospitalities seldom went into the news sheets 
—people who, calm, critical and invulnerable, can be 
civil, but who will not have or fraternize with another 
strata at any price. People whose positions are matters 
of character more than money. It is simply inexplicable 
to the plutocratic mind. It is difficult to realize that 
money is not the universe and that there are things it 
cannot buy. 

"'You must be tired now?’’ he said later. 

"I am just waking up. But we will go. I have some 
curios in ancient jewels that I want you to see.” 

They drove rapidly. Roswell knew full w^ell that he 
ought to be at home. It was now twelve o’clock. He 
hoped Mercy was fast asleep. He was not at ease. But 
a little later on he was not stirred by conflicting emo- 
tions. The rich perfume of the flowers slumbering on 
her bosom had mounted with the wine to his brain. 
They were whirled past figures moving along the streets 
■ — but at this stage had Mercy been among them she 


142 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


would have been a mere atom of dust like the rest. He 
no longer remembered Mercy. His mind was occupied 
and he thought only of the present hour. Under sway 
of the moment, he was being carried psychically and 
bodily, he knew not whither. He was living for one brief 
space. If a penalty must be paid, he would be equal to 
the extortion. 

Presently they came to her elegant establishment. 
Lights were gleaming frorn the heavily curtained win- 
dows. The flaring gas jets were burning on each side of 
the entrance. The man in charge wore an impassive 
face. Roswell attempted no adieu, but let himself be led 
forward into the luxurious splendor of her parlors. He 
threw aside his top coat, holding his fingers out to the 
glowing mass of flame in the chimney-place. It was a 
beautiful room. There were pictures of the sixteenth 
century and empire and colonial pieces — the mantels and 
walls and tables were crowded with works of art, such as 
people of wealth and habitues of the old-world cities are 
wont to gather around them. The embers of the hickory 
logs on the tall brass dogs of the tiled hearth threw a 
glow of light over the subdued colors of the carpets, 
rugs, curtains, couches and pillows. The rich ermine- 
bound mantle fell from her shoulders, aiding the display 
of the faintest intimation of hidden loveliness — gracefully 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


143 


suggested by the close-fitting satin dress waist. There 
was a charming sense of intimacy thus shut in with a 
beautiful woman with no possible chance of interruption. 

As he stood above her, following with his eyes the 
slender jeweled fingers that toyed with the leaves of the 
flowers at her breast, he sighed contentedly, giving him- 
self up to the enjoyment of the hour. Curios were for- 
gotten. 

"'I can never think to ask you to sing for me,” he said, 
sinking down beside her. 

‘‘My music is not the sort that soothes,” said she. ‘"I 
did not inherit the talent of my father. His music moved 
people but did not subdue the devil in him. I have not 
a note of music in my soul, nor had my mother's people. 
Her brothers were fine soldiers on the field, but laggards 
in the drill. ’ ' 

For the moment it was all music to Eoswell — the 
tremor of her voice — the trill of her gracious ways. His 
self-love was flattered, his vanity excited. It was a 
pleasure to believe that he was filling her heart with 
rapture — that a subtle softness was creeping over her as 
it crept over him. Suddenly she lifted her head, looking 
him steadily in the eye. 

"‘You have heard, I suppose, that I shall be going 


away soon?” 


144 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


He drew his chair closer. ‘'How soon?” 

“Not to-morrow,” said she, noting the anxiety in his 
tone. “I shall stay to the ball. But I have a pi'otege or 
so in New York that require my attention. Last autumn f 
I was interested in the progress of a young art student — 
they seem to have a fascination for me, or maybe a 
fatality — any way he was struggling forward and abomi- 
nably poor. I succeeded in interesting a wealthy patron 
who was extending the privilege of a year’s study abroad 
to a few of his class. This gave him access to the best art 
schools of Paris. Imagine my consternation, when the 
day before he was to sail he flung himself upon his knees 
before me, imploring me to fly with him — share his fate. 

I was touched. His eyes were of the loveliest sapphire 
blue, and as tender as a dream. I managed to avoid 
laughing in his face, and got him out decorously. I am 
sure he had not a sou in his pocket when he landed on 
the other side — certainly not to spare. Yet he sent me 
back — without a word — the money I had advanced for his 
passage. I never pick up a paper without a fear of 
reading of another case of suicide. ’ ’ 

Koswell was looking at the costly appointments of the 
room — the wealth of plush and bronze and gold and vel- 
vet distributed everywhere — the faces of quite young 
men in photographic frames of silver or pearl that met him 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


145 


in every nook and corner. All at once the rich-scented 
gloom was hateful to him — distrust grew as he heard the 
jeer in her voice, as she dissected the emotion of a human 
soul — its hopes, its elespair. Had her heart no feeling of 
compassion for honest suffering? 

‘'Of what are you thinking?’' asked she, quickly noting 
his abstraction. 

“Of what and of whom should I be thinking?” re- 
turned he. 

“I am afraid it is a clear case of thought-transference,” 
said she tartly. “Yet I can hardly believe it. The man 
who tells his wife everything is not seen to-day. It’s a 
wiser world by long odds. You amuse me to death when 
you pretend such ignorance. Do you imagine the peace 
of mind of your wife would be shattered if she knew 
where you are?” 

“I do not intend that she shall know.” 

“Ah, that’s the point. Then you believe in the sur- 
vival of man’s individuality before as well as after death? 
If your happiness will make her miserable, or her misery 
so affect you, then it would be highly immoral to let her 
know. ’ ’ 

He laughed, but uneasily. “Is caution useless or 
required, you think?” 

“I have not cared for myself certainly. You differ- 


146 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


ently situated and require — caution perhaps. But I 
should not lose a night’s rest over it.” 

A pause lasted some seconds. 

^‘So you have never loved any other woman?” 

‘‘One.” 

“But she was a mere plaything — the fancy of an hour.” 

“I wish to heaven I could say so,” replied he fervidly. 

She came closer to him — alluringly close. 

“And this other woman ” 

He took the hand held out to him and laid his own 
over it. 

“Listen,” said he, “Adele, I have fought against this. 
But you know as well as you know anything what my 
feelings were ” 

“Yes,” she answered in a stifling tone, “but the end 
of it?” 

“I do not forget that either.” He held her hand. 
“But it’s now — not then — tell me as you believe in 
heaven, how it is to be with 3^ou henceforth?” 

She paled, but controlled her emotion wonderfully — 
unless the hard expression about her mouth betrayed her. 

“I was not taught to believe in heaven — taught any 
especial creed. I was educated, as you know, at a Homan 
Catholic convent, I was charged not to be influenced by 
the Romanists, consequently I am nothing. Pere Didon’s 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


147 


'Life of Christ’ lies on my table. It was brought here by 
your mother’s graphomaniac. By the way, how his face 
changed when he saw its leaves uncut ! That fine yellow 
hair that hangs about his shoulders I imagine would sell 
even better than his poems.” 

"You are adroit, Adele, but you are not going to throw 
me off the track. When two people situated as you and 
I are — believe as we do — it is the fact, not the sequence 
I ask for. How is it to be now?” 

"I see, you wish to bend my spirit to your will. Ee- 
member, a broken limb stiffens, once mended.” 

The shadows had deepened all about the room — the 
dancing flames had died down. The house was silent. 
Eosvrell rose to his feet. 

"Then I had better go,” said he. 

"Stay,” said she. He was at the door. 

"I cannot,” said he curtly. 

"If I make a confession?” 

"I may.” 

He came nearer: "Do you love me?” 

Her head drooped upon her breast, and he caught her 
in his arms. He saw nothing but a beautiful passion- 
stirred face — heard nothing but the beating of two mad 
hearts for a time. Then he tore himself aloof from the 
clasping arms — flung himself down the steps of her house. 


148 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


The lamps were out. The streets were quiet. Once in 
the street he hesitated, staggered — not knowing which 
way to go. A long, long time he stood immovable. He 
was hating himself, the world, the flesh, and the devil. 
Above all, he hated, with drastic revulsion, the eyes, the 
golden hair, the spirit of the woman, who made all these 
things hateful with remorse and a new despair. 

As he stood irresolute, after midnight, a picture of 
indecision and misery, a few rods from the house he had 
quitted, a hansom cab backed up to the curbstone. A 
woman’s hand pushed the curtain back, beckoning to 
him. Awakened as from a bad dream, Koswell regarded 
this interruption in a mechanical way, until a soft voice 
called to him, ''Boss, my son, is it you?” 

'‘Come, get in,” she went on; “help steady this thing. 
I have just left a friend. I thought I knew my own 
son.” 

They talked as much as they could do under the cir- 
cumstances, and presently she put him down at his own 
door. There had been that, however, in the face and 
manner of Madam Thornton which made him feel ill at 
ease in her presence for the first time in his life. He 
had not explained his street vigil, nor had she alluded to 
it, except to say as she lightly laid her hand upon his 
shoulder when he was leaving the hansom, “Don’t see 


149 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 

too much of her. The sins of her father are not entirely 
forgotten. ’ ' 

The truth was that after a visit to Mercy, who had 
returned from the Horace Thorntons’ at ten o’clock, 
Madam Thornton had made up her mind impulsively to 
call a cab and go in search of her son. It was not until 
she had started and settled down in the hansom, that she 
reflected, ‘Ht’s so hard for me to recollect I have no 
money. If I fail to come up with Boss, who is to pay 
the man his hire? I must find him. ” Still, she shiv- 
ered a little, when after many circuits her patience was 
rewarded, her fears realized, by finding him a few rods 
from Adele’s door. did not feel it as much when I 
brought his Uncle John home one night after an election 
spree,” she thought, but said to him gayly, as they 
parted: '"Pay cabby a couple of dollars, son.” 

Fortunately he could return her significant smile. ‘"It’s 
your money,” he said as he ascended his own steps, 
“Horace sent it to you.” 


150 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The handsome new establishment of Mr. Horace 
Thornton faced other handsome houses on Dupont Circle. 
Mrs. Thornton was about to give a ball that would create 
as much comment and conjecture at the capital as the 
well-remembered function of the Prince of Wales in 
court circles or the memorable splendor of the Vander- 
bilt ball somewhere in the eighties. The day had been 
clear and cold and fine. The streets were immaculately 
clean. In spite of the cloudless canopy of the skies, Mr. 
Horace Thornton had done the right thing — had erected 
clean canvas to screen the guests of his wife from the 
gaping crowd. None like to emerge from a carriage in 
evening attire surrounded by a mass of over-curious 
people, Ethiopians and street boys. It is a notable fact 
that the very poor rarely compose this crowd of onlook- 
ers. Strips of carpet ran from the doorstep to the pave- 
ment. Groups of interested persons looked on from the 
corners and from the opposite side of the circle — some 
had dropped upon the seats in the circle — seemingly 
deriving gratification from the mere glimpses of transit 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


151 


and exit. The house fairly blazed with light. Police- 
men were stationed about, although perfect order reigned 
— they restrained the crowd no doubt, and would keep 
the coachmen in order. A couple of footmen about the 
door gave directions to each driver of an equipage as it 
came or went. Within, the suites of rooms — where no 
vulgar eye should penetrate — the exquisite drawing- 
room suite, the ballroom, the corridors and hall, and 
dining-room were thrown together in a perfect bower of 
vines and palms, and rare flowers, presenting the appear- 
ance of a vast conservatory. The double doors were 
hung with southern smilax, in which was looped and 
interlooped lovers’ knots of pale pink taffeta ribbon. 
The fluted columns of the stairway were garlanded with 
pink bridesmaid roses and ropes of southern smilac. 
The mantel shelves were banked with meteor roses which 
met hedges of fern rising from the floor. The immense 
mirrors were wreathed with great bush-like clusters of 
the same beauty roses, held with the artistic lover’s knot 
effect in pink, while upon the broad low mirror rests 
were the most dainty pale pink and mauve orchids. 

The ballroom was a fairy scene in floral miniature. 
The rich, dark finish of the ceiling was almost concealed 
from view with a dense mass of galax leaves and southern 
smilax, in which shone the bright colored lights, and at 


152 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


intervals the small electric globes glowed beneath a 
shade of soft, delicious pink. At the further end of the 
ballroom and screening the orchestra from view were 
massed palms and growing white azaleas. 

The second drawing-room, in which Mrs. Horace 
Thornton, the hostess of the evening, surrounded by a 
bevy of young and married lady assistants, w^as to receive 
her guests, was a picture. Mrs. Thornton, in a rich rose 
pink moire velour, with rare laces and jewels, bore her- 
self with all the grace she could command — and while 
she looked over the shoulder of the guest whose hand 
she touched was obviously interested in noting the 
number of the people who pressed behind. The rooms 
were filling rapidly. The air was heavily scented. 
Horace Thornton, properly important, was moving about 
among the guests, one hand in the bosom of his dress 
coat. His breast was swelling with pride. His pompos- 
ity had been pampered by delighted expressions. ‘‘An- 
other year, and I will do things on even a grander 
scale,’’ he was saying to himself. “I will have the 
whole set under my thumb. It’s not every man that 
can do the thing properly — even with money to back 
him.” 

Mercy Thornton, in a gown of fresh white crepe, had 
come in, leaning upon the arna of her husband. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


15S 


‘‘Glad to have your support/’ said Mrs. Horace 
Thornton to Mercy. 

Koswell Thornton was irreproachable from his white 
tie down, Mercy was very lovely to-night, lovely as a 
sweet, newborn rose — with character, expression, woman- 
liness, and a charm in her face — with the dignity and 
stateliness descended from a long line of notable ances- 
try in her bearing. She wore no jewels except the 
priceless old necklace of pearls worn by three Mercy 
Warrens in three succeeding generations. Her gown 
was cut round at the throat and shoulders, with frills of 
soft lace, leaving the firm white neck bare, while her fine 
pale hair was parted, and simply arranged about the 
face, giving her a look of “Our Lady of the Angels.” 

Mrs. Eose-Kodney was a late arrival. She at once 
descried this couple arm in arm. Her eyes followed 
them. She gazed long at Mercy, noting each detail of 
her face, manner, figure — looked with the marked in- 
terest a woman sometimes feels in the wife of the man 
for whom she affects to care. Did she really care for 
Eoswell Thornton, or was it a mere en revanche for the 
past instigating her? That her heart should (luicken at 
his approach was a constant source of wonder — to her- 
self. She watched the two steadily. Presently her fixed 
attention attracted Eoswell. He bowed stiffly. Mercy 


154 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


noted this and glanced over his shoulder, prepared to do 
her duty. The eyes of the two women met. 

Why, how is this?” asked Mercy innocently; “how 
is it she is here?” 

“How does it happen you know the lady on sight?” 
asked he, equally surprised. “You were absent when 
she was in Virginia.” 

“I wonder how she got here,” Mercy went on. 

“Better ask Annette. She is supposed to have issued 
her invitations. But she is the fad of the hour.” 
Mercy was silent. “H you become a literary rage, you 
will be sought after no doubt. ” 

“Don’t — do not name me in the same breath I beg.” 

“AVhy? It’s absurd. Every French novel has its 
adventurer, as does every American story it’s adven- 
turess ; but in real life, in society, we are not supposed 
to be on the outlook for things of that sort. We conceal 
our prejudices, otherwise we should be accused.” 

He seemed to be in perfect good humor. The eyes of 
his wife were troubled. 

“You speak to me as if I were a child,” said she. 

“You are childish — about this,” said he. 

After an interval. “We have discussed this and dis- 
agreed. We will ignore it, and — her.” 

He dropped her. arm irritably. “Of what avail?” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


155 


inquired he, looking after Mrs. Kose-Eodney, have 
told you what I think. I do not see how I am to get 
out of asking her for a dance.’’ 

‘^Please do not ask her.” 

''If you have reasons for wishing me not to dance v/itli 
her, tell me what they are.” 

"I have reasons.” 

"Do you know what you are doing, Mercy? You 
are making me ridiculous. Tragedy does not suit you.” 

"Boss!” with eyes of reproach. 

"I stand by what I say. I will not be dictated to. I 
will not be subject to whims.” 

Both had been quite serene, but he had worked him- 
self into a fit of resentment. The truth was he was not 
quite satisfied with himself or with Mrs. Eose-Eodney, 
whom he could see radiantly moving, with serpentine 
grace, gliding from room to room, on the arm of no less 
a personage than the Count de Viny. As she again came 
their way, she gave Eoswell a steady gaze — a long- 
speaking look, careless of his or her companion. She 
passed on. Eoswell turned upon his heel, and with 
uplifted head also .walked away. Mercy’s heart 
throbbed. She had been perfectly self-collected until 
she felt his growing anger. Then she found it difficult 
to suppress her emotion. It had all been so unexpected, 


156 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


As Eoswell Thornton overtook Mrs. Eose-Eodney, 
she met his contemptuous look with one of soft inquiry. 

‘‘I hope nothing has disturbed you?” said she. 

‘^Oh, a lecture,” said he; '"Mrs. Thornton makes quite 
a point of my dancing to-night — thinks I am a little too 
old, perhaps.” 

"H-m, a late precedent. Are you not engaged? My 
dancing days are about over, but we will try the next 
waltz. Until then, if you wish, conversation can be 
placed upon a highly classical plane. The statue of 
Minerva, Hercules, or the restoraton of the Parthenon, 
ancient arts and poetry — occult science — your "Peace 
Monument’ is about five hundred and fifty-five feet, is it 
not?” 

""We had better drive that way and inquire,” an- 
swered he. 

As it happened, fortunately, the floor of the ballroom 
was a perfect whirl of revolving figures when Eoswell 
Thornton and his partner joined the dancers, which 
served to cover any embarrassment that followed. Under 
the influence of the music, and the inspiration of the 
dance, he would soon have forgotten the entreating voice 
of Mercy. But it came to him like a prophecy. There 
was unforeseen trouble. Could it be possible that a 
woman worldly wise and adaptive had no idea of 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


157 


either step or time ? It was a lamentable fact, as much 
a fact as it was a moral impossibility that he should 
drag her around the floor in his arms. 

Mercy had stood apart, regarding the couple in a 
dazed way. It had not occurred to her that he would 
deliberately disregard her wishes. She could hardly 
believe her eyes. They seemed very much at home 
together as he led her forth. This thought was torture 
to his wife. She felt an insane desire to rush between, 
to tear them apart, to separate them for once and for 
all. But Mrs. Boswell Thornton was much too lovely 
to-night, had too many friends present, anxious to 
please, to permit her to stand and gaze after another 
couple. Women who knew and liked her cordially, men 
who admired and asked her to dance. To each she gave 
his or her moment — talked with statesmen, danced with 
a few old friends, and finally, after a dance with Carlo 
Dent, she heard her name called, and turning saw Miss 
Jerusha Tabb at her elbow. She was wearing the gown 
of combined lavender and magenta, and her usual agree- 
able expression. 

^'Good-morning,” said she snappishly. "It’s about 
that really. So you are dancing too?” 

"Oh, yes,” she answered. She considered Miss Tabb 
a meddlesome person^ but she was always civil to her, 


158 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


"'Your husband seems happy I must say. I suppose 
after cards for her, he had not the face to ask for them 
for me? Well, I met Horace and asked him outright to 
let me come and write an account, but I had to leave the 
colonel behind. Mercy, you had better keep your eyes 
open,’’ with a defiant nod in. the direction of the girl’s 
husband and Mrs. Eose-Eodney. "Was there ever any- 
thing seen like Adele de Cherville attempting to dance? 
It’s not often she shows the cloven foot — in a ballroom. 
But I say, keep your eyes open, Mercy Thornton.” 

"He is capable of taking care of himself, I hope.” 

"I dare say. Very capable. I saw them at supper a 
few nights ago. I must say, the colonel has not a parti- 
cle of patience with anything false.” 

Another time Mercy’s sense of the ridiculous would 
instantly have suggested to her mind the colonel’s left 
eye and false wig and falser teeth, but she was too full 
of serious thought to recall these. 

"Where did you meet my husband?” she asked. 

The thin frame of Miss Jerusha Tabb trembled with 
elation. If she could detail a four-column article of this 
interesting divorce case for Topics, later on, it might be 
the means of getting to Ocean Beach for a much-needed 
rest and stretch of sea air. 

"I met them at Chams — at supper. After the theatre, ” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


159 


"‘1 had forgotten,” said Mercy, "‘I had forgotten.” 
She was not conscious of what she was saying, her mind 
was full of shifting scenes. But she possibly perceived 
that Miss Tabb had accepted her announcement, what- 
ever it was, at its exact value. 

She stood where Miss Tabb left her. She was para- 
lyzed for the moment. The worst had come. She 
should make no scene. She made a few steps toward a 
door and came back. Boswell had deceived her — that 
was plain. His account of his night’s absence had been 
manufactured. Yes, it was possible. He had not only 
acted but had told her falsehoods. That could not be 
possible. His honor was fine. How should such a 
thing come to her? She strove to descry a couple 
moving in harmony to the music of a waltz by Sousa, 
but she could distinguish only the rich sleeve of a gown 
against the shoulder of her husband as they promenaded. 

A look not natural came into her eyes. She swayed, 
stumbled slightly. Her senses were reeling. She had 
tasted too deeply of a bitter cup. The music, the lights, 
the panorama of color, the heavily -weigh ted air, seemed 
to commingle in interminable confusion. Her mind 
drifted. Then it cleared. Motionless and miserable, 
she saw not the moving figures any longer; certain im- 
palpable scenes rose before the intent vision of her mind. 


160 


A CONSUL to CHINA, 


She saw the face of Adele de Cherville, young and fair — 
the crude, girlish figure with none of the matron’s 
mature grace. She saw her eyes — always described as 
baby-blue— with the cruel green gleam in their depths, 
and another rose beside it, the face of a young man, 
dehonnaire, handsome, full of vital joy until joy was 
blasted by remorse. There passed, as if in a procession 
before her, the time when she had seen him last — the 
time when he had sallied forth one sunny afternoon in 
Paris and had never returned — returned not, except cold, 
in his coffin. She recalled dimly his struggles to free 
himself from the unholy infatuation. He had been a 
pupil under Bonnat, and at twenty-three high honors 
had been heaped upon him. After a number of years in 
Paris with Lefebvre, and Boulanger, and Bonnat, he 
had exhibited in the salons, and had won the Drake 
prize for the best American figure-painting. Covered 
with honor, the dire tragedy of his death had come — 
had marred and broken other hopes and hearts beside 
her own. She saw his betrothed, the young sister of 
her husband — sweet Violet, shattered and numb as a 
fiower when broken from its stem by the storm. Violet 
had loved him too unquestionably to survive the com- 
bined forces of neglect and his tragic death. And Adele 
Eose-Kodney nee de Cherville, was this woman who had 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


161 


dishonored her dead — her brother Basil — and now — and 
now 

There was a moment’s lull in the music. Mrs. Kose- 
Kodnej" passed, leaning on the arm of Roswell Thorn- 
ton, and in a moment more they were in the seclusion 
of the conservatory, the seclusion afforded by its gener- 
ous green shade. 

At the sight of this, Mercy was sensible of no sensa- 
tion but one of cold outrage. Other couples were 
promenading the heated rooms, the women fanning 
themselves voluminously as they swept past, the men 
looking fagged and out of breath. Hardly conscious of 
moving Mercy moved on with the tide, until she found 
herself in unexpected proximity to Horace. Annette 
stood apart, smiling upon a party of excessively ultra- 
fashionable people as they entered the room. She was 
pleased to think her guests, some of them, had taken 
in other recherche affairs in the course of the evening. 
When she had presided oftener and seen more of the 
same, she would be proportionately displeased at such 
and such thing. 

In a little while the music resumed its swell, and 
some persons eager to make the most of it, brushed past 
Mercy, bringing her back to a sense of things around 
her. She drew near to Annette. 


162 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


“I imagined you were receiving with me — I am half 
dead with fatigue/’ said Mrs. Horace Thornton, whose 
tone took one of surprise, Mercy, you look like a 
ghost!” 

‘‘I look as I feel,” said Mercy. 

"‘That will never do,” was returned. 

“Annette,” asked Mercy abruptly, “did you know 
this Mrs. Eose-Kodney before to-night?” 

“Who should ask her here otherwise?” 

Mrs. Horace Thornton was not too tired to assume her 
habitual air of haughtiness when liberties were taken. 

“It’s hardly like your usual discretion to receive a 
woman on your first night of whom you absolutely know 
nothing.” 

“What is the matter with you to-night? Do you pre- 
sume to question my actions?” replied she blankly. At 
this juncture Horace in high good humor drew near. 

“What are you two discussing? Where is Boss? I 
do not see him anywhere?” 

“Mercy is taking me to task because — he is with an- 
other woman,” said his wife, “and because she is here 
at all.” 

“Well, I like that,” said Horace; “I suppose she 
thinks you are not capable of discriminating.” 

"'I was afraid Annette did not know” — Mercy started 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


163 


to affirm, but Horace stared his sister-in-law out of 
countenance. If he had ever looked upon Mercy as a 
thing to be desired, it must now be a thing of the past, 
entirely. 

‘‘Well, upon my word,’* said he, "'everybody is allud- 
ing to Mrs. Eose-Kodney as the star of the evening — 
myself included. "What can you be driving at, Mercy?” 
He lowered his voice a key, "Better let my wife manage 
her own affairs. She is difficult to deal with — usually 
suits herself. Where is Boss?” 

Mercy humiliated, scarce realizing what she did, indi- 
cated the conservatory by a glance and slight wave of 
the hand. That indication of the hand to Mrs. Horace 
Thornton, who struggled with latent irritation since the 
approach of her husband — was a lapse of the first 
magnitude. 

"For Heaven’s sake,” said she, frowning, "you make 
yourselves a target for all eyes. I should think you had 
the sense to see that it is to your husband’s interest to 
mingle with people of importance — to be on terms with 
prominent men and women.” 

"I suppose this woman is one to be cultivated,” said 
Mercy bitterly. 

"Mercy, you are jealous,” said Mrs. Horace Thorn- 
ton. The word jealousy seemed to strike Horace. He 


164 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


had not taken part against his brother’s wife since he 
noted the look of genuine pain in her face, as she drew 
her attention to the conservatory. He had never seen 
her anything but bright and serene. 

‘"What utter folly,” said he, and walked away. 

Mercy followed. Her feet had touched the first step on 
her way to the cloak-room when she hesitated, and re- 
traced her way with erect head and an air of decision. 

Parting the green branches that shut in the doorway 
of the conservatory, she entered. She could see nothing 
at first glance, except the shimmer of foliage and glim- 
mering lanterns — could hear nothing but the silvery 
tones of the fountain. A little further on, however, her 
quick ear detected the murmur of subdued voices. She 
stood for an instant, striving to steady her self-posses- 
sion. Then she went forward, stopping in front of Eos- 
well and his companion. They were seated side by side, 
and talking earnestly to one another. Mercy spoke to 
her husband. 

^‘Please order the carriage for me,” oaid she. 

Eoswell observed the strained pallor of his wife’s 
appearance, the constraint of her manner, and rose at 
once to his feet. 

‘‘Pray sit down,” said he, “Mrs. Thornton, you know 


Mrs. Kose-Kodney?” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


165 


Mrs. Eose-Kodney acknowledged this introduction 
with ready grace — a shade of amusement played about 
her lips. Mercy made a stiff inclination of the head and 
remained standing. Eoswell then proffered his arm to 
Mrs. Eose-Kodney, who, rising slowly, the three made 
their way into the rooms. 

‘‘I am told you have made quite a mark in literature, 
Mrs. Thornton,’’ said Mrs. Eose-Kodney, with an in- 
sinuating smile as they walked on; have scope for 

your talents. The "sacred soil’ is a sealed record to me. 
I am one of the repudiated. Born in Paris, my name 
and my picture will never appear in the American His- 
torical Kegister. Have you told the romantic story of 
your husband’s ghoulish moonlight ride as a boy of ten, 
after the war — with the dreadful Pole who mesmerized 
him, sold both horses and turned the little fellow loose 
in the streets of a strange city? You should have your 
story playrighted. ” 

""My friends are credulous,” said Mrs. Eoswell Thorn- 
ton, ignoring the story. ""I am inclined to profit by the 
advice of a great literary magnate, whom I met on the 
coast years ago — do no serious work until sanctioned by 
the ripeness of age.” 

Mercy’s manner and tone were coldly repellent, differ- 
ent from anything Eoswell had ever encountered. It 


166 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


said plainly, *‘I cannot bear to look you in the face, 
much less speak to you, but since I must, my speech shall 
be as near freezing point as I can make it/* 

Eoswell fidgetted slightly. Finally he seated Mrs. 
Eose-Eodney and turned to his wife. “Home will be 
the best place for you,** he said as he led her along. 
Tears of mortification rose in the eyes of Mercy. She 
strove to keep them back. “I am sure I cannot tell 
what has come over you, Mercy. You have made such 
an exhibition of temper to-night. I hope it is under- 
stood that I am not to blame.** 

“You will be sorry for this to-morrow, Eoss.** 

“Any one would think you dislike to see me enjoy 
myself. But if you can be obstinate, so can I. How- 
ever, I shall explain that you were suffering with a head- 
ache.** 

“Do not disturb yourself to apologize for me. I am 
not as much concerned about the opinion of certain 
parties as you seem to be.** 

“We gain nothing by discussion,** said he. 

“You will come home with me, Eoss?** she asked, her 
lips quivering. 

“I am quite ready to escort you to the cab,** answered 
he. “Come, get your cloak — unless you will stay and 
have a salad like any other sane person. * * 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


167 


‘‘Do you think I can swallow a morsel after all this?’' 

They were leaving the drawing-rooms — she barely able 
to keep back the tears that threatened to overthrow her 
self-control, when they were accosted by Mrs. Horace 
Thornton. 

“Where are you two going?” asked she. 

“Mercy wishes to quit the scene,” replied he. 

“It’s so silly of you Mercy. Why not let him have 
his hour? Mrs. Rose-Eodney may be charming, but she 
cannot run away with him. I doubt if she wishes to 
encumber herself.” 

Mercy’s lofty head said plainly, “This is a matter be- 
tween my husband and myself — you are not consulted a 
second time.” Mrs. Horace Thornton noted what she 
pleased to term in her own mind the sullenness of the 
girl, and said : 

“You are privileged, of course, to make yourself dis- 
agreeable to your husband as you please — but no scenes 
in this house, I beg. Horace does not permit scenes 
unless he makes them.” 

Mercy had expected no sympathy in this quarter, and 
was glad to escape to the dressing-room. 

Mrs. Horace Thornton, well dressed, perfectly at ease, 
held herself in the most gracious manner as she received 
or bade adieu to her guests. She had enough to occupy 


168 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


her — living as she did in a busy world of her own, with 
its interesting incidentals, concerning herself and her 
progress in society. To-night, her hands were more 
than ever full. If the trapped ices and oysters were not 
at once forthcoming, it would be a reflection on her 
entertainment, if the punch bowl was not instantly 
replenished it would be a lapse in the hospitalities of the 
house — if the wines — but Horace had the cellars — what 
was the paltry grievance of Mercy Thornton to details 
of importance such as these? If she felt curious, curios- 
ity even should be repressed until a more convenient 
hour and season. 

As Mercy Thornton came down cloaked and hooded, 
her husband stood waiting for her at the foot of the 
stair. His eyes had a sweet expression in them — at 
once exquisitely sad and tender. His hair shone out in 
rich bronze tinting, its undertone of gold giving to the 
head it covered a beauty of its own, quite apart from 
any she had ever seen. It was almost the perfect eyes, 
the hair, the head of a young god that met her look of 
yearning. She would gladly have taken his hand and 
have gone forth to dance or to supper with him, forget- 
ting everything disagreeable. But she met no encour- 
agement. The ballroom was in a whirl of bright waltzers 
from Strauss or Offenbach. Over the chair in which was 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


169 


seated Mrs. Eose-Kodney leaned the figure of an officer 
in the Austrian uniform. He wore high-top boots of 
patent leather, over tight-fitting trousers. His coat, cut 
in the style of Louis XVI., was of black velvet, edged 
with astrakhan, the front incrusted with jewels — the fila- 
gree buttons were set with large turquoises. No doubt 
this was one of the most distinguished men present to- 
night. A pang of remorse shot through the pure heart 
of Mercy. ‘"I can hardly blame him,’’ she thought. 
Further on stood Miss Jerusha Tabb, with a buy-and-sell 
expression on her face. She nodded pleasantly, how- 
ever, as Horace Thornton approached the recess of the 
window which she had appropriated. It was to her 
interest to be civil to the host. She must know the 
exact value of the jewels worn by his wife, the cost of 
the decorations and the supper, the money’s worth of 
every incidental before the evening closed. 

Meantime, while his wife had been putting on her 
wrappings, Koswell had spoken a few words with the 
hostess. 

‘‘You can see how nervous Mercy is. Don’t tell her 
anything more than you can help,” said he. 

“She is a great goose. Let her come to her senses. 
You stay until they all go. We will have some fun.” 
With her sanction he decided to do so« 


170 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


When Mercy appeared he said, not coldly, '"Let me 
take you to the cab. ’ ’ 

Silently, however, he led her down the steps, put her 
inside, closed the door, directed the driver, and returned 
to the house. Once within the shadow of the moving 
vehicle Mercy broke down completely. She wrung her 
hands together in the obscurity of the shabby convey- 
ance, ‘'She has come into my life a second time, and a 
second time she will break my heart T’ she cried. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


171 


CHAPTER IX. 

The morning after the ball of Mrs. Horace Thornton, 
Roswell Thornton and his wife met in an icy fashion. 
He had come in about dawn, and rose for a late break- 
fast, which he swallowed abstractedly and immediately 
after went out to his office — as Mercy surmised. In 
reality, his law office had for some time past been in the 
possession of a more fortunate individual, from a busi- 
ness point of view. At any rate one not as low in pocket 
as its late occupant. But of this his wife was in igno- 
rance. Perhaps a few people whom business required to 
pass from F street, a few flights down into the basement 
quarter, remarked the sadness of the young man’s face 
who sat daily before a desk in the rear end of a room. 
It w’as hardly observed, however, by the class of people 
who came and went, although to an observer the profile 
of his face expressed a certain unmistakable sign of 
despondency of spirit or decline of health. 

At dinner it was much the same as at breakfast — 
moody silence on his part, a few faint suggestions on 


m 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


hers. Mercy was still unstrung, and this state of things 
unendurable to her. Neither the ball nor the name 
of Mrs. Kose-Eodney had been mentioned between them. 
"When either spoke, it was of some trivial household 
matter. She wondered if the present constraint was to 
continue. It seemed impossible for either to get back 
where they had been. The following day as he w^as pre- 
paring to leave the house, after luncheon, she said to 
him: 

‘‘Why should you turn away from me lately Eoss? If 
my heart could break, it would.’' 

“We all make mistakes,” said he, “but that would be 
a decided mistake.” He was bending his head about, 
looking for his hat or something. The hat was in its 
usual place, but he avoided her eyes. In a moment more 
he was passing out, when she detained him. 

“I am your wife,” said she, “and you should give me 
some explanation of — of your attitude.” 

“You are my wife,” he answered, “but I am not your 
slave, to be ordered to do this or that. I have no ex- 
planation to make.” 

“Answer me this,” said Mercy, chilled: “You told me 
of several things — of the meeting at your mother’s — the 
drive through the White Lot — have you not been seen 
with her constantly since?” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


173 


He winced. ' ‘Constantly? No. Sometimes? Yes. 

I can tell you the whole disgraceful thing, if that will 
satisfy you — and would all along, if you had not assumed 
such very high ground. I have nothing to conceal.’" 
This was his real thought and he followed it up by a 
narration of events, embracing the night of the theatre 
party. “Jerusha Tabb and her colonel were at Cham’s, 
spying as usual to make up a column for Topics. Of 
course there was no escape.” He stood, hat in hand, 
looking terribly outraged. “But you do her injustice,” 
he continued, “she can be a friend in a matter of the 
gravest importance to me. ” 

Mercy breathed rapidly, and when she could find her 
voice, asked: “Is this strictly true? I mean, you do 
not make love to her?” 

“How preposterous!” said he impatiently. “You 
must know better. Is it possible you credit the first idle 
story that ever reached you — and from such a source? 
You were aware, of course, that Mrs. Rose-Eodney was 
asked to be the guest of Annette simply because she can 
give me letters of introduction to some of the powers 
that be?” He believed what he said, in a measure, his 
words and manner were very convincing. Mercy was 
convinced that he was not to blame altogether. But 
this hardly altered the case. 


174 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘‘I was not aware of anything/’ said she, and without 
waiting for a reply she passed into the library, and 
sank down upon the couch, face upward ; there was no 
pillow beneath her head, but both arms were drawn 
tightly across her eyes and mouth. There was no sound. 

‘‘Mercy,” said he softly, as he followed and was stand- 
ing over her, “suppose I say I have been wrong? Will 
that alter the situation ? You do not seem to understand 
how I am placed. It is a galling fact, and I hope to rise 
above it. But at present, people of influence are my 
only hope of keeping out of the poorhouse. 

“That may be,” said she, without moving a muscle, 
“but no advancement can possibly come to you through 
certain channels. I am not deceived. We must help 
ourselves. Of course, I might say that some of my 
wealthy friends — knowing how anxious I am for study 
and progress — might send me abroad. I should not like 
any good to come to me that way. I should prefer that 
you and I work out these problems for ourselves. ’ ’ 

“Tell me the way,” said he, “tell me the way.” He 
had dropped down beside her and sought to draw one 
cold little hand into his own. Then she sat up, and 
gave him an adoring glance. 

“Need you look at her so?” she asked, forcing a 
bright smile, yet remembering keenly the dewy light in 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


175 


his eyes the night of the ball. “Promise me/’ said she 
noting the gravity of his manner, “that you won’t go 
near her again — unless — she sends for you on business.” 

“I am ready to promise anything,” said he, feeling 
that peace must be restored. He leaned over and gently 
touched her lips. “You silly child. Am I to kiss the 
Bible and then to cross my heart, as the children say?” 
His gentleness, the assurance of his faith, the pressure 
of his lips on hers, satisfied her. 

“Boss,” said she after awhile, “don’t you think we 
might go to the country? It would cost about one-tenth 
part of what it does here. We would not be cramped — 
and think of the spring, the summer, the loveb’’ autumn, 
the field sports. Why, in our county the poorest people 
own horses — the wheel will never take their place with 
the W. Hunt Club. It is the life of all others to restore 
us to a healthy tone. The distractions, the exhaustion of 
city life, are foes to study and reflection, even sleep — the 
extremes of poverty and splendor do not stimulate.” 

“I know,” he answered, “I would dearly love to 
belong to the W. Hunt Club and have you ride with me, 
but what is a man to do in the country all year around 
— without money — to keep the wolf from the door? A 
large house must be heated in winter certainly. I bet if 
you went down to the country to-morrow, you would 


176 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


find more than half of our country friends living in on# 
room — may be two. And storms, I suppose, and books 
and empty tables and dull evenings would be better than 
the tinsel and show of our tawdry society?'* 

‘‘I did not ask you to be cynical. Boss. We can work 
uninterruptedly. " 

“I suppose you are prepared to play dairy maid? I 
am sure I could rise at three a. m. and superintend the 
milking ; that is what a creamery means, and I hear of no 
other industry in rural parts suited to us. Our uphol- 
stery must be all on the outside of the house remember — 
the chestnut and oak and birch will console us — the 
snow must be our carpet — our bric-a-brac will glisten 
and glimmer in the icicles on the trees and shrubs — our 
galleries will be full of the canvases of May and October. ' ' 
Then he drew a long breath. Let's stop this foolish- 
ness," said he. ‘‘We are going to come out all right. 
By the way, Laura Prescott wishes to know if w^e can 
dine with her if she sends her carriage for us this after- 
noon, about four o'clock? You will have your little 
glimpse of the country. ' ' 

Mercy was able to turn a playful face toward him. 
“I'll see what my numerous engagements are." 

“But I must telephone at once," said he. 

“You know how happy it will make me — to go with 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


177 


you/' said she, her lovely eyes meeting his. So he 
kissed her and left her to send the necessary message. 

Madam Thornton, who sat in a pew in the Church of 
St. John, a privilege accorded her by a gentlemanly 
usher, the grandson of one of her old friends, was 
somewhat removed from the pew which had been 
occupied by her mother and father in the old days 
when they had been habitues of the capital — but 
she loved the church in which she had attended Sunday 
school, and which would soon reach its centennial era. 
It was the Sunday after Annette Thornton's ball, and 
she seemed to catch sight of Mercy's face every time she 
raised her eyes from the prayer book or hymnal. Its 
pallor troubled her so much she could not follow the 
service or hear the text of the eloquent divine. What 
gave the child that look? The white, resigned face was 
before madam all day, and in her dreams she saw it. 

Miss Jerusha Tabb called directly after church to give 
her, as she said, an account of the ball, and after she left 
madam determined to see Mercy at once, but one inter- 
ruption after another prevented. 

Doubtless Miss Tabb had dwelt upon many things 
beside the agreeable features of the ball. She certainly 
did not supi>ress a parting thrust. 

"‘It would have been all very well," said she, "‘if 
you had been there — in your place — in the drawinf-» 


178 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


room. Nobody begrudges them the vast amount of 
money expended — but to leave you out was hard — hard. ’ ’ 

'‘Oh, well,’’ returned madam, in a pacific spirit, "the 
money circulated does as much good to many poor souls 
as it could possibly do me.” 

"Bother!” said Miss Tabb, "what is the betterment 
of a few caterers and florists and modistes in compari- 
son with a man’s own mother?” 

The next morning, after a restless night madam longed 
for a carriage to take Mercy to the Soldiers’ Home. 
Broadened by experience. Madam Thornton was singu- 
larly free from bitterness. Unlike many who had suffered 
by the Civil War, she never dreamed of avoiding this 
beautiful spot or that of Arlington from any feeling of 
resentment. To her mind, the old soldiers were war- 
riors who had won their spurs as best they could and 
deserved rest and freedom from care. "I would like to 
be one myself,” she had said gayly; "it’s an honorable 
retirement. ’ ’ 

Horace had teams galore, and delighted in taking his 
friends out ; when he was driving his favorite horses, he 
felt that he was showing off the good style of his posses- 
sions. But madam had no idea of asking her son Horace 
for his elegant trap. After luncheon, she ordered a one- 
horse conveyance and drove to Mercy’s door. She sent 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


179 


a message by the porter, and after a little Mercy came to 
her smiling sweetly, with hat and gloves on — a long 
wrap over her arm. 

‘‘I am dying for a breath of fresh air,’’ said madam, 
come with me. ” 

^‘Why, mamma,” said Mercy, unconsciously quoting 
madam’s favorite author, ‘^Sweet Nancy’s are looking 
up” — this is my second invitation to-day.” Then as she 
seated herself, ‘‘Boss has just left the house. Sorry you 
missed him.” 

‘‘It’s all right between them, then,” was madam’s 
pleased reflection. 

“Suppose we drive to Chevy Chase. We are asked 
there to dine with Laura Prescott to-night, and I like to 
know my bearings.” 

So the horse’s head was turned and after a few smart 
circles they were in the main avenue of travel, and later 
on climbing long, low hills. The day was clear and 
sunny, the air sweet if fresh, with vague perfumes — as 
vanishing roses or lavender laid away — Avere wafted from 
field or belts of wood. When they ascended the gentle 
declivities to the summit, they descended into delicious 
bits of valley, crossed rustic bridges, had glimpses of 
fern-fringed water — every tiny belated warbler had a 
tone of wailing sweetness as it flew past or sought shelter 


180 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


in bush or tree. Eeaching the top of the last ascent, 
they saw about an half-mile away in a lovely spot, 
on dull green slopes with woods., and distant hills 
and rolling country back of them, a cluster or suc- 
cession of gentlemen’s country homes, known as Chevy 
Chase. 

“This is about where fashion airs itself on occasions,” 
said madam, as the driver prepared to turn. 

“Yes,” answered Mercy, “these breezes are supposed 
to fan malaria out of the system.” Indicating one of 
the pretty modern places, she told madam it was the 
home of Miss Prescott. “It promises to be a fine even- 
ing. I hope Koss may enjoy it.” 

“Mercy,” said Madam Thornton suddenly. “I am 
afraid that boy has made you fret lately. You must not 
lose your color. Your health is important. Can’t you 
have a little trip somewhere?” 

“It’s awfully silly, mamma, but I could not enjoy a 
trip anywhere unless Koss could go,” said she gently. 

“Go down to Virginia — to your father for a fortnight. 
I am aching for a chance to haul Koss over the coals — 
‘blow him up Salt River,’ as he used to tell his father.” 

“Koss and I understand each other, mamma.” 

“Yes, but I want a chance to strangle that girl for 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


181 


presuming to flirt with my son and your husband in 
public or private. It’s all a joke, of course, but we want 
none of her grim jokes.” 

No other word was spoken on the subject. 

When the hour came round for Mercy’s second drive 
into the country on the same day, she was taken down to 
the brougham shrouded in a long cloak over her dinner- 
gown, by a young gentleman who was in good spirits 
and remained so, as they were driven through the long, 
lovely lanes. The snows had been light and fleeting this 
year, readily yielding to an after bath of rain. The frosts 
had not been many or heavy. In the fields, tender patches 
of green grass clung here and there — while a grand old 
monarch of a tree, or some less aristocratic shrub made a 
desperate effort to retain a vestige of its summer livery. 
And over all fell the beautiful, palpitating sunlight as 
the sun went down. The air was crisp and invigorating, 
and deluged their jaded senses as the sun did the fad- 
ing glories of nature around them. 

The brougham drew up in front of Miss Prescott’s 
house, and they went up the steps into an oak-paneled 
hall, where Mrs. Koswell Thornton was taken possession 
of by Miss Prescott, her things by a maid in waiting. 

At thirty -five Miss Prescott was a statuesque figure of 
undisputed distinction. She possessed a warm heart 


182 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


and cordial manner, unflagging cheerfulness and un- 
flinching speech. Her health was superb. As she pre- 
sented Mrs. Koswell Thornton to her brother, who 
offered his arm, she took that of Mr. Eoswell Thornton, 
who immediately said to her : 

“What did my message to you say?*’ 

“May we come to dinner to-night? Send carriage/* 
she answered, with a broad smile. 

“Suppose the carriage had been out of the way?** 

“I should have managed. I was dying to lay my 
hands on you both. * * 

“Thank you,’* said he gratefully, “Mercy was yearn- 
ing for the country.” 

It was an informal dinner party of four people. The 
table laid in a pretty room — the curtains drawn back to 
admit the last glimpse of lingering daylight, the hills 
and intervales. The handsome table of mahogany was 
dressed in the fashion which makes the most of all the 
beautiful old things left us by our grandmothers — a 
white square embroidered with chrysanthemums covered 
the center of the fine linen cloth, on which was k jardi- 
niere of pink Vivian Morell chrysanthemums. At each 
corner were wax tapers burning in tall silver candelabra, 
while great bunches of glorious yellow Lincoln chrysan- 
themums were near each plate. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


183 


It was an ideal country dinner. Its sweetness and 
freshness had its effect upon the spirits of the two tired 
young people from town — two people instinctively sensi- 
tive to surroundings. 

"'There is something in the odor of these lovely flow- 
ers — something pungent, that makes me feel strong,” 
said Mercy to Miss Prescott. "There is no other flower 
that I love so much unless it is the homely ambrosia — 
you remember Laura, ambrosia grew in great bunches in 
grandmother’s garden? It seems to me suggestive of 
what Tennyson claimed for the violet, to "bring back the 
time when I remember to have been joyful and free from 
blame.’ ” 

""I wish I were as "free from blame’ as you, my dear,’’’ 
returned Miss Prescott. 

""You cannot know how very wicked I have been 
lately,” said Mercy, who turned at once to the gentle- 
man beside her. Mr. Prescott was a good talker, and 
found no difficulty in interesting his pretty neighbor. 

Mercy was dressed in white, always becoming to her 
untarnished style — although it added to-night something 
to her appearance of fragility, as well as to her refine- 
ment and beauty. Roswell sat opposite her. She could 
read the changes of expression on his face, in spite of 
candelabra and chrysanthemum. 


184 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


He looked entirely foreign to miserable thoughts. It 
was not his nature to adhere to the depression of gloom- 
ier moments when in the company of others. Every 
one who knew him well loved him. His best friends 
could not say why they loved him, but that charm which 
never fails to win upon others was one of his strongest 
points in social life. 

Miss Prescott was telling him how sorry she was not 
to have asked him to bring his violin with him — Mr. 
Prescott was asking Mrs. Thornton if she heard the art 
lecture by Mr. Claude Higginson. 
hated to miss it,” said Mercy. 

‘"But you did not miss much. It was a rambling 
reminiscence of foreign travel — better put forth in his 
books.” 

"‘Another of your countrymen,” said he, nodding 
toward Koswell, “who has married wealth. But the 
equation is to be arrived at. Does wealth promote progress 
in a man of genius ? Enabling him to pursue his studies 
and researches abroad it would seem yes, but in very 
notable cases an accession of wealth seems to paralyze the 
intellect. ’ ’ 

Turning to Mercy, “As an author Higginson is unex- 
celled, as an artist unequaled, but he is not a born 
lecturer,’’ 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


185 


''And it would hardly be fair to the rest if it were 
so/’ said Mercy, "orators, actors, artists and composers, 
are each expected to do some one thing well — not all 
things/’ 

"You must remember Higginson, Mr. Thornton. He 
was a clerk in the house of your brother some years?” 

"Which speaks well for him,” said Koswell. 

"It does. America need not blush for her progressive 
sons. The sons of noblemen abroad are now going into 
trade.” 

In the little becalm that succeeds the removal of 
plates, the cheerful voice of Miss Prescott was heard. 

"My dear,” said she to Mercy, "speaking of celebri- 
ties, I want you to tell me what induced your sister-in- 
law to ask a person that should be ostracized, to her 
ball?” 

Mercy glanced across the table at her husband who 
lost the thread of everything else. 

"No wine,” said he composedly to the servant, put- 
ting his fingers across the glass. "Dear Laura,” he 
replied ere his wife could do so. "I do not imagine 
there was any possible reason, beyond the fact that the 
lady in question is a very popular one.” 

Miss Prescott smiled cheerfully upon him. "I asked 
a woman that question,” said she, "but since a man 


1S6 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


replies — is rich, you mean. It is really bad for a woman 
to have too much money. She is never sought for her- 
self. I speak from experience. A miserable fortune 
hunter shook my faith — and whitened my hair. This 
Mrs. Kose-Kodney has nothing but money to commend 
her, I have been led to believe from the best authority.'* 
‘‘And,** said Mercy quietly, supported by Mr. Pres- 
cott, ""all men do not care for money.” 

""Precious few,” said Koswell, with admirable self- 
control. ""On the other side I wish you could have 
heard a conversation the other night between some girls 
I had taken out to supper. I seated them in a window. 
‘Dearest old man in Germantown,* said one, "made all 
his money in the coal mines. I will be ashamed to show 
my face if I do not take him. * 

"""He has a son. I prefer youth to age,* said the 
other. 

"" "Too awfully common. Eton and foreign travel 
didn’t make a thing of him. * 

"" "Prefer youth to age,* was repeated. 

"""I prefer laces and luxury,’ said the other, with a 
toss of her youthful head. "It won’t be long before the 
old fellow turns to the daisies.* ** 

Mr. Eoswell Thornton*s sally, took them all from the 
table. The moment the gentlemen were at liberty to fill 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


187 


the room with tobacco smoke, Miss Prescott led Mercy 
away to her morning-room, and told her to lounge a 
little. 

'"Now, my dear,” said she, "since I cannot keep you 
with me a few days as I should like, I want you to let 
me talk to you as if I were your sister, while I have you. 
Why are you so pale, lately? You cannot be brave 
unless the nerves are all right.” Then followed some 
instructions in regard to the mystic rules of Christian 
Science. "I keep this Apostolic ring by me,” said she, 
turning a handsome sj^mbolic ring upon her finger as she 
spoke, earnestly saying to her listener much that she 
had previously gone over in her mind. "I want to 
persuade you to be very wise in this matter. You have 
all your fair young life before you — love, peace, happi- 
ness, if only you influence your husband in the right 
way. He is worth the struggle. Be patient and cheer- 
ful if you can — at the same time seek to keep him inter- 
ested until the danger is past. It is like infection and 
must be promptly dealt with.” 

"What an idiot I have made of myself,” thought 
Mercy, who sat upright and steadily answered, "I do 
not mind your speaking to me in this way, Laura. I 
know you are honest and — have suffered. From most 
people I should not be able to stand a word. I am glad 


188 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


to be able to tell you that Eoss and I understand each 
other perfectly/' 

‘‘Now that is as it should be, " said Laura Prescott. 
“I have a great deal more to tell you — about — the fash- 
ions, " as a maid approached to say that Mr. Thornton 
was waiting, “but it seems we are not to be indulged 
to-night. Mercy, you should always wear white. I 
never saw a woman whom it suited as well." 

Miss Prescott followed Mercy and the two gentlemen 
down the steps to the carriage before the door. The 
moon shone out grandly. 

“Fine night for the Chevy Chase lake," said Mr. 
Prescott. 

“I was a country lad," said Eoswell, “a freeze before 
dawn — stars about a mile apart," looking upward. 
“Good-night!" 

“Good-night!" 

The sun, if a searchlight, is known to give certain 
strength. Does it follow that the moon, vague in its 
beauty, is to encourage weakness ? Mercy Thornton drew 
close to her husband’s side enjoying the moonlight on their 
homeward way. He was very gentle with her. He had 
not taken unkindly Miss Prescott’s open denunciation of 
a woman whom he had felt called upon to defend. He 
felt that his life had become a mesh of deception. Still, 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


189 


up to his talk with Mercy in the morning — when moved 
by real contrition — he had hourly grown more intent 
upon yielding to his inclinations. He saw that he was 
drifting into turbid waters. He passed in review his 
acquaintance with Adele, her open preference for his 
society. He could not take into account the fact that 
the Count de Viny and other men were received and 
treated in the same way. He was simply carried off his 
feet. He had tried to escape — had roused himself to 
cut loose — to keep aloof, but as invariably some circum- 
stance brought them together again. It was not as if 
his heart and his conscience had never been startled 
from their sleep. Even before his wife’s appeal to him 
— as he had strolled in a fit of restlessness along Con- 
necticut Avenue the evening before — vaguely troubled 
by the state of things at home — he had been singularly 
unprepared for a sudden sight of Mrs. Kose-Eodney as she 
swept down the steps of a friend’s house to her carriage. 

With her innate love of glow and glitter, her taste was 
unerring — never at fault as Annette’s might be — all she 
did was gracefully done. The exquisite perfection of 
her appearance thrilled him for the moment. But be- 
fore he recovered his head to her, she noted the gravity 
of his bearing as he was passing — with head, usually 
carried erect, bowed low on his breast. 


190 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


After his return from Chevy Chase with his wife about 
nine o’clock he had taken up the violin and played a 
few snatches song — a bar or two from Saint Saens’ 
Samson and Delilah.” Then he said, closing the case 
abruptly : 

‘'I wish I had taken Jacqueline along, and played 
Carlo Dent’s Creole Songs for them. But no one can 
put the heart touches in it that he does. ’ ’ 

truce to regret, ” said Mercy brightly. ‘‘Look!” 
her face transformed by the events of the day. '‘Why 
should everything pleasant come at once?” 

"To the happy, most things are pleasant,” answered 
he, as she put a couple of checks in his hand. 

"In spite of the hue and cry for short stories, I have 
disposed of a serial right,” said his wife, and this came 
from your cousin, Honora Thurston. What can her 
sudden interest signify?” 

"It is only of late it seems to me, that you have looked 
for motives;” he was turning the slips of paper over 
with hands that trembled a little. "She knew what she 
was about. It was good of Cousin Hon, but I am afraid 
you may derive small personal benefit from it.” He 
handed the checks to her. As he did this there was a 
knock at the door. Distraction came very gratefully to 
him. The idea that Mercy could earn money when he 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


191 


had found it difficult to do so was not agreeable, hurt 
his pride. 

The look of expectation in his face was rewarded by 
the entrance of the porter with an envelope and a box of 
flowers. 

‘‘Yours/’ said Eoswell, passing the box, directed to 
his wife. 

“Open the note,” said she, with a small air of pro- 
prietory impatience. He deliberated, looked about for 
a paper knife, and flnding one, ran the slight, oxidized 
affair cautiously under the flap of the perfumed 
envelope. 

“Deavc Mr. Thornton,” he read, with Mercy looking 
over his shoulder, “Can you come to me at once? I 
have something of importance to communicate in regard 
to your affairs. With my best wishes for success, 

“Very sincerely yours, 

“Adele de Cherville Eose-Eodney. 
“N. B. — Beg Mrs. Thornton to accept a few roses.” 

“What do you say to this?” asked he of Mercy, who 
had withdrawn and taken a seat near a reading lamp. 
The American Beauties w^ere wasting their sw'eetness 
under pasteboard. He turned the note over in his hands 
and Anally threw it into a waste basket. 

“Do as you think best,” replied she. 


192 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


He walked into the dining-room, mixed a little seltzer 
and soda and lighted a cigarette. "‘I am in no hurry,’" 
said he, ‘‘but perhaps I had better go.” 

“I am not capable of advising you to-night,” said his 
wife rather coldly. She had interceded often of late, 
and his promise, their late compact, was fresh before 
her. 

“Mercy,” answered he, “we have made our peace. 
I know you can trust me out of your sight."" He kissed 
her, and a few moments after drew on his greatcoat, 
and with a heavy sigh passed out. His wife waited 
several hours. She did not retire — sleep was out of the 
question. 

When Roswell Thornton was ushered into the presence 
of Mrs. Rose-Rodney she was sitting alone with listless 
hands folded across her lap. As always, she was care- 
fully attired. 

She had been described by Miss Tabb as decidedly 
not up to date, either in complexion, dress or liveries ; 
as without humor, music, movement of any sort, studied 
and stuccoed — but that true sense of beauty w^hich 
taught her to blend and arrange a color was a born 
instinct (inherited, she would have told him, from her 
lady mother). She had none of the Turk"s lack of har- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


193 


mony — a yashmak would have been adjusted with a view 
to the becoming. Had she been called upon to array 
herself as was Antoinette — one of her models — for the 
guillotine, she would have sought to avoid all grating 
tones and motley hues. 

She had asked him to come to her to-night, partly 
from a feeling of unrest, partly from a desire to have 
him near. Did she love this man with a humility, a 
tenderness, partially born of the past? One year ago 
she decried the passion as a weakness — did now, in her 
stronger moments. Had this weakness overtaken her, 
set its seal upon her restlessness, bent her strength 
before it? There had been no missing link — wealth, 
beauty of a kind, influence were hers. Why should she 
seek to forge a chain that could add no luster? If these 
were her thoughts, she was ill at ease in their company 
and showed it. She did not rise to greet him. He 
came near and dropped into a seat. 

give it up,” said she, closing her white teeth 
firmly. ‘‘I have no influence over you. That business 
of yours is the only thing that brings you near me. It 
was not worth while really to put aside your hat I 
have no news of importance. What is "news’ to a woman 
with her heart in her mouth, to a woman that is almost 
desperate?” 


194 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


So far from resisting this outburst, he deliberately ran 
his eyes down the breadths of her dress and figure with 
evident approval — and uj) again, until they met her own, 
w^hen he smiled. 

‘"Desperation becomes you,” said he, “yon have the 
height to stand it.” 

Her whole manner changed. 

“You are in fine humor. I must tell you how I spent 
the morning. De Yiny brought a catalogue. Antiques 
were to be sold at the house of the Austrian minister 
this afternoon. He wished me to make selections for 
our house. He is there now, I dare say, bargaining at 
a great rate. Empire objects will be his ruin. All I 
could say “(overcome with laughter)” as he pointed out 
this or that thing in the pamphlet was, ‘Yes, buy this,’ 
‘oh, buy that!’ I have something to talk over with you 
— really. I have been thinking of you constantly and I 
want to help you. I know your wife tries to keep us 
apart — but I shan’t make away wdth you. It is natural 
she should not be fond of me. ” 

“Why should she not?” 

“It is not altogether imagination. But her feelings 
do not affect me. I should like her to be an angel. The 
angels of heaven never grow old. Gabriel is as young 
and glorious to-night as when as a stripling he brought 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


195 


the message to Daniel. I was thinking you might like 
a trip to New York. The tickets came to-day. It is 
going to be the attraction of the year. Seats will be 
twenty-five dollars apiece.’" 

‘‘You must know, Adele, how I am situated. You do 
not need to be told.” 

Her eyes clouded stormily under their lids. A 
danger perilous to somebody was lurking in their 
depths and in her momentary silence. He had known 
it was not well to thwart her. She moved apart from 
him gently, but firmly. Aloofness was as potent, under 
the circumstances, as tenderness. When she spoke it 
was guardedly. 

“So you cannot go?” 

“It is the only life worth living — the life that rises 
above people and surroundings,” said he abstractedly. 

“lean arrange the telegrams,” said she, “I will see 
that they are properly worded,” pleased at what she 
chose to interpret as an accession. 

“But I am not free to seek happiness where I can find 
it,” resumed he. 

“It was never intended that one should suffer from a 
sense of duty,” argued she; “if one is certain of one’s 
own feelings in a matter of this sort, one must be pre- 
pared to take the consequences. The creed of my father 


196 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


was 'get all joy possible out of life/ It is the only 
thing of which we are certain. His was not a jolly 
existence, but he lived. He had a hard time in youth 
and believed that he was born with the soil of evil in 
his heart. He was not responsible. The first thing he 
observed after reaching maturity was this alienation 
from heavenly things, followed by disbelief. So after 
awhile a sense of security came, succeeded by numb- 
ness. I suppose I do not look at things in the right 
way. Mamma, you know, was a lady born, but weak 
and wretched — and what moral teaching do you suppose 
I had from my father? He taught me to throw my first 
card — he let me win in the beginning, to instigate my 
skill. But it is not of my wretched self I want to talk — 
it is of you — ^you are a man — perfect master of your own 
actions.” 

"I am not recognized as a free agent, however.” 

"A fine distinction.” 

'‘Tell me more about your life in Paris.” 

“There is nothing pleasant to tell. Before I was 
born, my grandfather kept a cafe in the Eue de Paris, 
Poissonniere. He had not an idea beyond hoarding 
what he made. As often happens, his wife was demoi- 
selle de comptoir, like any other hireling. My father, 
Jean de Cherville, was a waiter until a wealthy patron 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


197 


seeured for him the advantages of a musical education, 
which abruptly ended his career in the restaurant. He 
was a composer at an early age. I have heard his good 
fortune came about in this way. Wealthy customers 
had been assigned him one evening. ^How much did 
that old party pay for himself and wife to-night?’ asked 
the head of the firm after their departure? ‘Twelve 
francs,’ was the reply. ‘Then you can go’ — cried the 
hard old man, ‘I relieve you of any further duty here. ’ 
Father studied, came to America, and w^as employed by 
the old Virginia squire whose estates adjoined your 
mother’s — as music tutor for his only daughter. Mamma 
fell in love with her black-eyed French music master 
and married him. As you know, the ’squire was disgusted, 
as was Miss Jerusha Tabb — but my grandfather Abbott 
was of different build from my French ancestor ; he for- 
gave his daughter, and eventually followed her to Paris. 
We lived in the Boulevard du Temple until his death, 
and long after — my throat pains me to-night — papa 
died too. We had lived up to every sou of our income. 
So it was contrived that I should be married to the most 
wealthy young man we knew. He drank fearfully. 
After mamma’s death and — Edgar’s — I had about money 
enough left to bring me to New York, where my journal- 
istic career began. I was accused of writing dreadful 


198 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


things of you Southern people. After this, I applied 
for a position as trained nurse, and took care of an old 
man in his dotage. He died of the grip and left me his 
fortune, and here I am, the most unsettled, the most 
whimsical, the most wretched woman on the face of the 
earth.*’ 

If Koswell Thornton was not influenced, by this capri- 
cious woman, he evidently had come to move her. He 
opened the closed book of her life and read its pages. 
Did he read of how she ranked him above men as in her 
girlish fancy she had honored him? When she had 
known him first, he had been the type of all things 
splendid, rank and wealth and power, and she had never 
divested him of these. He lamented no change of for- 
tune, he was tolerant and reposeful — she had left her 
youthful disappointment far behind, was beautiful and 
courted, but where this man was concerned she was also 
as weak as water. If only that one drop of vagabondish 
blood — of which he knew — which she could never deny 
to him — could be drained from her veins ! 

‘"And you have never considered a second marriage?” 
asked he. 

“Never. I tell you truly. I wish you to know all 
there is to know about me. I have no desire to keep 
anything back, ” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


199 


‘^Adele/’ said he, ‘"if there is anything I can do for 
you, to atone for some things — I was but a boy remem- 
ber — trust me — tell me.*’ 

“You can do as I say. I have pointed out the way.” 

“It is impossible,” said he, “to resist you at times. 
I know my weakness, ’ ’ and as he leaned toward her his 
shoulder touched hers, his face was full of strong emo- 
tion, “but, Adele, this one thing I can never do. You 
must not ask it. ” 

Her face worked with pain and passion. “As there is 
a God in heaven,” cried she, “I love you — but I know — 
I must not ruin your life ! ’ ’ Eeal tears were coursing 
down her face. 

“It is her pride — it is her pride that would shield him 
from me, ’ ’ was the reflection of Madam Thornton after 
her drive with the wife of her favorite son, “as if a 
mother cannot see.” 

Miss Jerusha Tabb had left her in deep meditation 
about ten o’clock. She ran in for a moment, in which 
she managed to convey the fact that she had seen Eos- 
well a little while before, steering a clear course for the 
house of a friend. The result of madam’s reflection was 
that she came to a sudden determination. And, night 
as it was, she immediately set out to carry it forward. 


200 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


It was no agreeable task, for apart from its unpleasant 
features, she w^as not prepared for it. She was arrayed 
in her best black gown — the streets were damp and slip- 
pery in that part of the town, her shoes were worn and 
thin, and the ultra-fashionable portion of the city — 
which she should penetrate before the matter was done 
with — some distance from her. She held up her skirts 
to preserve them. Car tickets were a luxury ; although 
the browbeaten herdic line had reduced its fare to three 
pennies she would not recover from the extravagance of 
her last drive for some time, if indulged in with a charita- 
ble purpose — the hope of cheering Mercy. It would 
cost her abstinence for more than a week in other shape 
than the midday cup of tea. To cut expenses madam 
had given up table board and had taken to light house- 
keeping. At the conjunction of Seventeenth Street with 
Pennsylvania Avenue, the Executive Mansion, the De- 
partments of War and Navy and State lay before her. 
She leaned a little to the south, for a moment casting a 
lingering look down the broad street toward the new 
Corcoran Gallery of Art, then toward the Long Bridge, 
the sweep of river, the shaft of the monument rearing on 
the Potomac Flats, all distinctly visible in the white 
moonlight. At the foot of the street was a mansion — 
once popular, now in decay — associated with some of her 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


m 


happiest recollections. Twenty years before, represen- 
tative men and women had passed to and fro through 
the old gray stone lodge gates and crumbling porte 
cochere. To-day the once beautiful grounds were given 
over to athletic exercise, to the fad of the hour, bicycle 
races. Madam stood reflecting, not as active on her 
feet as in those old times — but after a little she went on 
— not joyously — and finally reached her destination. 
She stood biting her lips and knitting her brows uncon- 
sciously as she waited to be admitted. Mrs. Rose- 
Rodney was not seated — she was pacing the floor when 
Madam Thornton was announced. She had not altered 
her position since madam’s son left her a quarter of an 
hour before. She was gowned in a priceless fabric, 
gems shone at her throat and on her hands. In her 
yellow hair was a giddj" butterfl3" of brilliants. 

'‘Dear Madam Thornton,” said she cordially, meeting 
her halfway, with eyes wide. 

"Adele,” replied madam in a rather stilted tone, "I 
have not a moment to stay — but, a moment ago my son 
left you. Is it for you he leaves his home ? If so, what 
is the sense of it? Tell me.” Madam put out a hand, 
and rested it upon a shoulder that rustled beneath her 
touch. The sweet old voice of madam as she spoke the 
last words had a quiver, a break in it that appealed to 


202 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


the woman more than sternness or reprimand. If she 
cared for the respect and affection of anj^ thing living — 
beside this woman’s son — it was this woman herself. 
Perhaps madam understood her better than she knew, 
and was certain she would gain no point by aggression. 
There was the silence of a moment in which they looked 
away from one another. Each had an instinctive intui- 
tion of what the other was feeling. Madam thought 
Mrs. Kose-Kodnej^ at this instant was a handsome 
woman whatever else could be said to her discredit. 
She had never seen any positive signs of the infatuation 
of her son for her, but other people had seen, and talked 
— Mercy thought it was so, and was breaking down 
under the strain. She cleared her throat, tightening 
her hold upon Adele’s arm with her delicate old fingers, 
which were slightly wrinkled, but glittering with beau- 
tiful rings. 

‘‘Tell me the truth, Adele,” said she, “what are your 
intentions in this matter?” 

“If you mean,” said the younger woman, “if I care 
for him — I do with all my heart, I have loved him since 
I could remember anything. ” 

“This is worse than I thought, ” said the mother of 
Eoswell Thornton, “and you know it is wrong. Promise 
me to put an end tc this nonsense at once. You will be 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


203 


happier than if it is allowed to go on — you lose his 
respect in the end.^’ Madam drew near, ‘‘I have always 
been afraid your father — ’’ the rest of the sentence was 
lost in a whisper. 

‘‘I promise,'’ said Adele, ‘/never while you live to 
seek to harm the hair of a head you love." 

“I am glad to hear you say so, my dear. I hope I am 
good for a few more years," said madam, cutting herself 
short, and drawing her pelerine about her. “The atmos- 
phere of Washington is not agreeing with you, child," 
said she, not unkindly, as she passed out. 

“I am convinced of it," replied Adele. 

Mrs. Kose-Eodney was strangely out of nerve to-night. 
No sooner had the door closed upon the portly figure of 
Madam Thornton than she flung herself upon a couch 
and sobbed, dry, hard sobs, without tears. The tears 
that had been brought to her eyes a few hours earlier — 
when Eos well left her standing the center of that room 
— had been forced back, back with stern strength — com- 
pelling self-control. “I am not fit," said she hoarsely; 
“I was never fit for any of them." 

After leaving Adele, Eoswell Thornton returned to the 
house and sought his couch. Mercy was seated at her 
desk as he passed through the library. She had found 
it impossible to sleep, and had sought distraction in 


204 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


the thoughts, feelings and actions of her characters. 
Finding her thus occupied, he had, after a few remarks, 
gone to his bedchamber. 

It was some little while before a soft rap fell on his 
door. ‘"Come,’' said he, sleepily. “Why, mamma!” 
exclaimed he, starting up, “if you had been the ghost of 
the Octagon — what is the matter? It’s very late for you 
to be out alone. ” 

These questions followed one another in the rapid, 
abrupt style usual to the man when aroused. 

“Nothing the matter with me, Koss — only anxious,” 
said his mother in a low tone; “I want to speak to you.” 

“But you must be tired to-night, mamma. It is late,” 
said he, noting the strained expression about her eyes — 
the look that old age does not hesitate to bestow upon 
the handsomest face when unwarranted liberties are 
taken by fatigue or distress. 

“I am tired,” answered she, with a sigh, “but I do 
not want to sleep at once if that is what you mean — not 
until I have spoken to you, my son. You must see that 
Mercy is not overstrong this winter.” 

He was sitting upon the side of the bed now, and 
looked at her as she sat apart. This restless way of 
peering into the matters of others was so unlike her. 
Presently she came up to him, and threw her arms 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


205 


around his neck. They were very near to each other — 
this mother and son. He knew that he was the pride of 
her proud old heart. When she released him and had 
walked away she was bracing herself to speak out. She 
came back and stood facing him. 

‘‘I have just left a friend of yours,” said she; have 
been speaking to Adele of you.” 

‘'Speaking to Adele?” repeated he, as if failing to 
catch her meaning. 

"You had just left her ” 

Eoswell started as if a pistol shot had rung in his 
ears. "You were watching me? Oh, mamma, was that 
worthy of you?” 

"Is it worthy of you, my son, to stoop to certain 
things to break the heart of your wife?” 

It is a bad moment when one — with whom love and 
peace have been absolutely lifelong — shows the first 
bitter resentment. It is a sad one when that moment 
arises between mother and child. 

"Mamma,” said he defiantly, "please do not take it 
upon yourself to direct me.” 

Madam Thornton was completely silenced for awhile. 
She knew not how to proceed. The eyes of Roswell 
were flaming with anger — eyes that in all his life had 
never looked into hers with any look but one of love. 


206 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘^Eoss,” said she at last, '‘let j’our mother help you. 
You respect the memory of your father, do you not? 
Let me save you in time from pain and remorse, it may 
be disgrace,’’ her voice trembled. "Grant that Adele 
has a fancy for you — she would say affection — she has 
some sense left. She knows that if she had the thought 
of helping you through some of your monetary difficul- 
ties that her interest in you must not go one step further. 
I know your pride will not allow you to put yourself 
under obligations to a woman, especially to an unstable 
woman. She cannot avoid inherited tendencies, let us 
think, but heredity is a convenient cloak often worn as 
occasion requires. Put this whole piece of arrant non- 
sense upon the basis of sympathy, interest, friendship, 
not love — and let it go. You, my son, do not, cannot 
stoop to love the daughter of a — convict,” whispered she. 
Eoswell shrank back. "In the San Eamon Valley, 
about thirty miles from San Francisco, is a ranch of 
three hundred acres — a refuge for released convicts. He 
is there. She told me so herself.” 

Eoswell’s manliness asserted itself. He looked his 
mother straight in the eyes. 

"What else did she tell you?” asked he. 

"Not much. But she made me a promise — not to 
bring grief to me, or to Mercy, through you.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


207 


In this the dear old mother had no wish to mislead 
her son. She was honest in her conviction. She loved 
the wife of her son, and Adele Rose-Kodney had said, 
‘'of any you love.'’ That lady doubtless did not design 
this broad interpretation. 

“Koss, " said Madam Thornton, “You remember it 
was this woman that was poor Basil Lloyd’s undoing, 
that caused Mercy and her father and myself a world of 
trouble — and — and — your little sister Violet.” 

“No, mamma,” said he sadly, “you kept everything 
from me that you could. This is all news to me. Give 
yourself no uneasiness. I am not bound to her by any 
tie in the world. Had I not better dress and go with 
you? Then, when you pass out, ask Mercy to stop that 
scribbling and come to bed.” He kissed her warmly 
and opened the door for her. “Mercy,” he called softly, 
“please look in the breast pocket of my overcoat and 
give mamma the car tickets. Send Jemima home with 
her. She must hurry or the cars will stop.” 

Madam Thornton, after a moment’s cheerful talk with 
Mercy, went her way. Mercy was by now quite willing 
to put up her work and retire. 


208 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


CHAPTEK X. 

During the days that followed the interview of Madam 
Thornton with her son Koswell, he saw but little of Mrs. 
Eose-Kodney. But this had not prevented his living in 
an unnatural atmosphere. It rather conduced to it. 
The attitude of two people, kept apart by circum- 
stances, two people who do not meet, is often dan- 
gerous — if they think of each other. Eoswell Thornton 
was now a frequent habitue of the c.tub of which 
Horace was a member, and was as often rewarded 
by a crested note or a buttonhole spray of hothouse 
flowers. He was indifferent to what Horace might 
think of these small attentions, and he was secure 
in his silence. Horace had entered with his wife upon 
a round of dissipations, but he was never too fashionable 
to remember his brother. "‘Boss’’ was asked to lunch- 
eon, to drive, to join some concert or theater party 
constantly. 

But as Mrs. Eose-Kodney was never included in any 
of these invitations it would seem as if any pleasure, 
aside from the piquancy of that lady’s society, was, at 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


209 


this period, of small interest. He met her infrequently, 
however. At times the temptation to break through 
with his self-imposed restraint was an excitement. He 
was deeply in debt, and was holding on, with the 
desperation of a miser, to the sum of money that Horace 
had given him for his mother. A few dollars had gone 
at a time but the bulk was in his waistcoat pocket. He 
still believed in his ability to master fate. This is a 
phase of American character difficult for foreigners to 
understand — the blind belief that all must come right in 
the end. A man will allow himself to touch the verge of 
ruin financially, hoping by some feat, some hocus pocus, 
to be retrieved before the blow actually falls. There is 
no doubt in the world that this costs a man reputation 
and retards his progress — but it is seen again and again 
even in national character. 

The money in his possession made Roswell feel like a 
thief at times, when he sat with his brother or broke 
bread at his table. Still he held on to it. If he gave it 
up, he was absolutely penniless. The thought sent cold 
chills through him. 

Mercy had not alluded to Mrs. Rose-Rodney, since the 
night that Jady sent for her husband. In their most 
confidential moments — now few and far between — her 


210 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


name was not mentioned. Except for slight reserve on 
this subject, Eoswell and his wife had resumed much 
their usual mode of life. 

^‘We must live peaceably,” she meditated, no anger 
in her eyes, if at times infinite longing, infinite pain. 

Eoswell who had been the most affectionate of sons, 
now rarely went near his mother. He was In fact turned 
aside from the usual pursuits of life. Mercy, on the 
other hand, impelled by his omission to do duty for 
both, went oftener than usual, indeed regularly. She 
was later than she had designed one afternoon, and when 
she came in was sorry to find Miss Jerusha Tabb and 
the colonel paying madam a visit. 

Madam Thornton was in a dressing gown of some out- 
of-style stuff. Both wearer and gown had the appearane 
of battered relics. Such, as she had laughingly said a 
short time before, the South will have to put in its 
Battle Abbey. There is nothing else.” 

The face of madam was flushed. She was walking up 
and down the floor restlessly, discussing some one of her 
pet themes. Miss Tabb sat erect, while the colonel, 
with one arm reposing toong a pile of down pillows, 
was attentively listening. 

“In this continental congress,” madam was saying, 
every right in the world. My grandfather and my 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


211 


great grandfather were both Kevolutionary heroes — my 
father was an officer in the United States Army.’' She 
cut herself sort, as Mercy advanced through the gloom. 
‘"So glad to see you dear. I’ve had an awful ache in my 
shoulder for days. I have lived to regret scouting Boss’ 
idea to have Jemima bring me home the other night. 
The herdics had stopped, worse still, the cars, and even 
worse it was supposed to be moonlight by the Washing- 
ton Gas Company, and the lamps were all out. I hardly 
know how I did get here. When Bassett let me in I 
could not find the door to my own rooms, and when I found 
the door I could not find the keyhole. I fumbled and 
fumbled worse than I did that Christmas-Eve night when I 
had been drinking eggnog with you and Boss. A little 
outing did not use to serve me such a turn. They are 
all kind here, kind as they can be, and when the cham- 
bermaid found me shivering on the sofa, with a pile of 
things over me, she enlivened me with her cheerful sym- 
pathy. ‘Where do you feel the pain,’ she asked. I told 
her it was bad from head to feet, but my shoulders and 
chest troubled me most. ‘And your head?’ Yes, my 
head ached on top. ‘A lump in your throat?’ No, I 
said my throat was parching, as a furnace of fire. 
‘That’s just it,’ she said, ‘it begun just so with her.’ 
‘With whom?’ ‘Oh, my poor daughter, ma’am, she came 


212 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


from the laundry complaining of her throat and in two 
days she was dead. * ‘How terrible/ I said. ‘Oh, don’t 
be alarmed, ma’am, maybe it wasn’t the same disease.’ 
‘I should say not. You told me long ago that your 
daughter died of pneumonia — this is grip.’ ‘Her fever 
came on like yours. I’d send for the doctor — they are 
poor satisfaction — their bills awful — but you better send 
for him.’ ” 

Madam’s friends laughed with her. Mercy’s eyes had 
unconsciously fallen upon her untidy gown. “I won’t 
apologize for my neat appearance, dear. All jokes aside, 
I think I had better go travel in some foreign country. 
I do seriously — where I can be unrestrainedly economi- 
cal and shabby.” 

Mercy thought with a pang of the plan Ross and her- 
self had mapped out for her a short time before. Mercy 
had bowed, with rather studied coolness to Miss Jerusha 
and the colonel, when she came in. Both observed the 
scantiness of this greeting, although Miss Jerusha pre- 
tended not to do so. 

“Looking pretty well,” said she in return — her inflec- 
tion suggested, “considering all things.” “We drop 
in occasionally for a little chat with Elizabeth. It takes 
her to size up a genealogical tree.” 

“Mamma’s great charm is her interest in the present,” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


213 


said Mercy, for lack of something more interesting to 
say. 

‘"She does not seem to be in love with the present 
to-night. We will have to invent a ^ story’ as we call all 
press matter.” 

“I should say there is truth enough to draw upon 
without invention,” Mercy said. 

‘‘H — m — well, yes,” said Miss Jerusha Tabb, "‘there 
is,” turning sharply from her to the colonel, who, hav- 
ing risen from his lolling posture, was wiping his glasses 
on a soiled piece of silk. “Come, consider yourself 
snubbed, sir!” 

“Happy on occasions to put myself in Miss Tabb’s 
place,” said he, smiling wickedly at his own weak wit. 

Mercy walked away from them across the floor to a 
southern window, raised the linen shade and looked 
toward the Potomac absent mindedly. The last few 
weeks had altered the face of nature. Winter was here, 
with its grim fate for some. In the waning daylight 
she could see the bareness of everything in the old 
garden below. There would be no more flitting kisses 
of snow this year, welcomed by all as a novelty — when 
snow came again it would be to submerge and stagnate 
— bring hardship and suffering to the poor. In ten days’ 
time Christmas would come — but the thought failed to 


214 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


bring its usual spring of gladness. ^‘Peace and good 
will to all men/’ she could heartily say — but there would 
be no mysterious exchange of gifts between Eoss and 
herself this Christmas. Was it always so? Did years 
dull affection? No, a thousand times. There were long 
years of absolute happiness arrayed against one little bit 
of bitter space. She sighed wearily. 

"‘Don’t be severe upon Jerusha,” Madam Thornton 
said softly, coming to her side, “underneath the rough 
surface she is a warm friend of the family. Let any 
one attack me and you will see. For a gentlewoman she 
has had a hard time of it.” There was a feeble ring in 
madam’s voice. “I have come to regard the struggles of 
all self-supporting women with respect. As she says, 
she must live. No two of us have exactly the same set 
of opinions. If we had, we would all jump at once.” 
Then she went on soothingly : “I have a piece of news 
for you dear. I had a letter from Honora by the last 
mail — as usual it took an hour to decipher the contents, 
but I managed to gather this much : your father is in a 
fair way to realize something handsome from the quarries 
that adjoin mine. It’s the same vein. She has hit me 
hard in the same breath — she is obliged to withdraw the 
small amount she has advanced monthly for a time — it 
is an old land claim and I have allowed her to annul it 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


215 


in that way. Honora must know that I am on the verge 
of dissolution, physically and financially. I cannot 
understand it. I can do nothing with my own quarries 
for lack of funds to advertise and develop. But you 
will be benefited in this case, Mercy. I am glad of 
that,'’ patting her daughter-in-law softly on the arm. 
‘"Your marriage was one of true love. I want to see 
you prosper and look brighter than you have done lately 
— tell Boss I miss him — and tell him that if your father 
has been able to form a stock company, that we ought to 
be able to find our men, and put up shares.” 

“Boss has been busy about his appointment,” replied 
Mercy, as she walked away from the window with 
madam, possessed by vague unrest. 

“Yes, I know,” responded madam, as she began pac- 
ing the floor again, and stopped in front of Miss Jerusha. 
“Jerry,” said she, “you recollect when Boss first 
courted Mercy? We were all one family at Thornleigh. 
I said it was a fine thing for the boy to get such a wife 
and I say so still!” 

“If she can only keep him straight,” said Miss 
Jerusha Tabb. 

“Tut! tut!” said madam, going on. “Horace would 
never have suited her. Mercy is full of intellectual 
activity. I was a wealthy woman in those days, and I 


216 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


intended to make their future secure. It will come an- 
other way, and I am very glad. I know they will never 
let me come to want. I felt blue as indigo before you all 
came. The chambermaid about convinced me that I had 
smallpox, and my first thought was that we have no 
hospital here for contagious diseases. I wonder if they 
ever mean to have one ? The landlady came and I told her 
she could put me out if she thought best. She was 
wiser than I, and sent for my doctor. He told me to stay 
indoors — even temperature — and drink a little brandy. 
I said he would have to supply the brandy like our good 
old country practitioners. I had not a drop, of course, but 
the good woman gave me a dose. She is very kind to 
me. I shall have to remember her in my will. I was 
not scared. It would be no great hardship to me to — go 
back to Thornleigh, even ** 

'‘Now, Elizabeth,*’ broke in Miss Jerusha, ''you are 
talking childishly.” 

"Indeed, I had better go to St. Petersburg, Monte 
Carlo or San Marco, disguise myself, and take the role of 
some frumpy old Kussian princess — maybe I could break 
the bank ” 

"You are not a De Cherville,” again interrupted Miss 
Tabb — "a gambler and his daughter who amuses herself 
that way are naturally adapted to play. You might 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


217 

succeed as a princess — I mean your disguise — but you 
would not win at cards.” 

^^Well, there are persons abroad — I knew a Levantine 
consul who would advance sums upon articles, such as 
grandfather’s sword — it is jewel-hilted — or diamonds. 
They might take care of a lot of things for me and my 
ancestors. These usurers buy titles in this way. I can- 
not put them up here at public sale. That canvas of 
Landseer’s over the mantel shelf would bring me twenty- 
five thousand dollars at Chrystie’s. Landseer is having a 
rage in London. Well, it’s the, grip I suppose, that makes 
one think and feel.” 

Madam Thornton threw herself wearily down in an 
armchair. ^‘Now there is Horace. What a s,mple thing 
it would be for him to drop in and see me occasionally. 
I do not forget he is my son, if he does forget that I am 
his mother.” 

Mercy was very uneasy. wish dear mamma would 
not talk so before these people, ’ ’ was the burden of her 
thoughts. Ross, lately, had been as careless as Horace. 
^‘She does not feel at all like herself. I never heard her 
harp on the past so much, or on unpleasant subjects 
before.” 

‘^Horace selected his wife,” resumed madam; ‘T had 
nothing to do with that vagary. Of course, a wife’s 


218 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


wishes should be consulted and considered above all 
others, but if she decides that figures of bisque are to 
adorn her establishment to the exclusion of children, 
then bisque figures it must be. If my child was only 
natural with me, I should not mind. It seems hard.’’ 

Her slender old hands fell together dejectedly in her 
lap. 

‘‘Well,” she went on, “he is a rich man and a pros- 
perous, happy man. I see mention of him in the papers 
— that is all.” A sensation of chokiness had dulled her 
voice, but with an effort she recovered it and added 
cheerfully, as she moved her seat, “Every dog must 
have its day. I doubt if they have a better time than 
we had in our day — in the old times when Thornleigh 
was at its best — its doors stood wide.” 

Then Madam Thornton sat for awhile lost in thought 
— thinking perhaps of those charming old days of South- 
ern hospitality. Perhaps she saw the mansion as it had 
been — its quaint moss-grown wings — opening upon a 
court of green with the sundial in the center. Perhaps 
she beheld the old-time guests of Thornleigh — when as a 
romping, barefoot child, she peered at them through 
green leaves restrained by the arms of “black mammy,” 
painted, powdered, patched, frivolous, and luxurious, 
but delightful always. Perhaps she saw an old garden, 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


219 


its gnarled elms and sturdy oaks, and its mossy paths 
trodden by the slippered feet of sleeping ancestry, and 
later on by her own handsome little sons. Then back, 
back to the vine-covered pavilion (swept off by modern 
thrift as an incumbrance to the ground) but fifty years 
ago the retreat of happy lovers. Further back of this, 
did her eyes see another, a forsaken, sad, neglected 
spot, where her loved and lost — her dead, lay at rest ? 

Miss Tabb had retained her pose until it had become 
irksome. ‘‘Let Horace rest, Elizabeth,” said she, “he has 
done well for himself — better than most of us. If he 
were to die to-morrow, he would have mourners in 
plenty — the municipal carriages w^ould turn out. No- 
body would stop to ask if he had been a man of high 
endeavor. He has been successful — that’s enough. I want 
a paragraph or two. Tell me something new. Tell me 
that every woman is to get the full value of her work. 
I know she never will get it until enfranchisement 
gives it to her. ’ ’ 

Madam Thornton laughed heartily. “I can see you 
now, Jerusha, on your way to the poles in bifurcated 
garments. ’ ’ 

“Miss Tabb,” said the colonel blandly, “you can 
steer a wheel as well as any woman I ever saw, but it 
does not follow that you are always in the right track. 


220 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Every man and woman are, or should be united upon the 
questions which concern the welfare of the country. 
But with all due respect to you ladies, there never was, 
and I hope there never may be, government by all the 
people. Such a state of affairs would lead to what these 
armies of unemployed have been striving to bring about — 
anarchy.*’ 

‘'Nevertheless,” persisted Miss Tabb, "equal rights 
can never exist until the power of ballot is accorded to 
women.” 

"But by withholding their vote, women are not de- 
prived of a right. They are represented in congress by 
their member, they are represented at the polls by a 
father, brother, or husband.” 

"Suppose there is no father, brother, or husband 
Her brother and herself were not on terms. "There 
should always be ahead of the family of some kind,” 
said he grimly. 

"But suppose there is no such head?” 

"Then, one should be influenced by the greatest power 
one’s precinct produces. I have just thought of some- 
thing that will interest you all more than politics or 
religion,” said he, starting to his feet. 

"For pity’s sake,” said Miss Jerusha Tabb, "don’t 


keep it to yourself.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


321 


is about the Parisian beauty.*' 

''Do let us have it,” said Miss Tabb. 

"It seems she has lost her heart with some fellow here, 
and is spending her money on him. I would like to be 
in his place. * * 

"I v/ould like to see you in it,” returned Miss Tabb. 

"It is going to be a scandal on a grand scale,” said he. 

Mercy grew hot, then cold. She quivered in her seat. 
Surely they would respect his mother . 

"Mildly interesting so far,” retorted Miss Tabb. 

"We had better wait for Topics,'* suggested Mercy 
weakly, turning to the colonel. 

"Lord,” said he, Topics is the affair of Miss Tabb. 
I have other things to occupy me.” 

Madam Thornton had flushed hotly before she said in 
defense of the absent: "I would not say anything to 
injure Adele in the paper, if I were you. She has made 
some reputation for herself. * * 

"Lost it, you mean. She had better advertise and 
have it returned to her, ” snapped Miss Jerusha Tabb. 
Madam Thornton was not silenced. 

"It is much better to encourage what good there may 
be in a person than to arouse evil or denounce it, unless 
quite sure it exists. I believe in pushing people for- 
ward, not backward." 


222 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Madam Thornton had passed dreary, sleepless nights 
on account of the woman for whom she was speaking in 
behalf — hours of depression, when weakened by loss of 
sleep and privation, dragged down by poverty and the 
fear of approaching degradation, she had walked miles 
across her floors, battling for the rest that never came. 
With daylight she had returned to her daily life — a life 
of affected carelessness, covering up her wounds with a 
pride that equaled the fortitude which enabled her, at 
times, to laugh all her woes away. 

Mercy had become more composed as Madam Thorn- 
ton administered her rebuke. ^‘Do let the woman rest,*’’ 
said she. The pleading note in her tone was not lost 
upon the correspondent of Topics, She looked up 
sharply. 

‘‘My dear,” said she curtly, “you are not supposed to 
see these things from our point of view. We are not 
actuated by malice,” she reached into the depths of a 
pocket and extracted a note-book. Her eyes had a 
febrile look in them. “Personally, I hold up to judg- 
ment no man or woman. I simply follow my line of 
trade — as De Cherville follows hers. ’ ’ 

“We understand, Jerusha, ” asserted Madam Thornton, 
weary of it all. “You cannot be responsible morally. 
That is as plain as the nose on ykouv face.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


223 


‘‘Not to suggest that Miss Tabb has a plain nose?’* 
supplemented the colonel, with a twirl of his gray 
mustache. 

“You can be so agreeable when you try, ” said Miss 
Tabb, puncturing him with a look of scorn. 

Mercy rose to leave. She had regained tone. 
“Think of the innocent people who suffer from news- 
paper notoriety,” she ventured to say, as she pulled on 
her jacket of cloth. 

“Tut!” sniffed Miss Tab, shutting her book sharpl 3 % 
“Adele de Cherville innocent — a perfect babe in a cradle. ” 

She was reflecting, however; “Mercy Thornton has as 
good as told me her husband is the man. What a wit- 
ness to put upon a stand. ’ * 

“I recall to mind something that occurred in 1842,” 
Madam Thornton was beginning, on the road to a differ- 
ent subject. As Mercy passed out she heard her repeat 
“in 1842” as she closed the door. As Mercy went on, 
through the semidarkness, her fictitious strength de- 
serted her, she felt strangely unnerved. Those people 
made the two common talk. They had only been 
restrained by the presence of madam. Jerusha Tabb, 
at least, was dependent upon madam for occasional 
favors, and had no desire to provoke the brave old 
woman who had stood her friend a lifetime. Not yet — 


224 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


not unless it became necessary in order to promote what 
she esteemed her private interests. This was the view 
taken by Mercy. 

And madam — how old and broken she had been to- 
night. Roswell must be more careful of, more attentive 
to, his mother. How touchingly she had spoken of her 
sons — going back to the past in a way she had never 
observed in her before. 

As Mercy hurried along the street, no thought of the 
possible good fortune of her father was uppermost, 
although she had at once realized what such a change 
must signify for Ross and herself. She had not come to 
consider any separate interest. 

And to-night as she went — too anxious and worried to 
think of riding in a car — which she avoided always if 
possible — instead of good, or unlooked for happiness, an 
indefinite shadow of pending evil seemed to spread out 
its arms to meet and enwrap and envelop her. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


^25 


CHAPTER XI. 

In order to economize and indulge in a fresh flower or 
so, Mercy Thornton rose early on three days of the week 
and went to market. Roswell was accustomed to this 
state of things (she went to early service during Lent) 
and she was always home at breakfast. 

The evening after she returned from Madam Thornton's 
passed quietly; she purposely withheld the news im- 
parted by madam. She was unwilling to arouse hopes 
she had seen doomed to disappointment. But she 
longed for a letter of confirmation, to surprise and please 
him. However, she had heard so much of all this in her 
lifetime — had seen her father with hands and pockets 
bulging with specimens of variegated marble, malachite 
and amethyst and onyx and jasper— a beaming look in his 
face as he prophesied their fortune was made. And after- 
ward when identified with the Thorntons of Thornleigh, 
madam, who had wisely or unwisely held on to some 
eighty acres of her land — said to be rich in marble — 
madam, when all else failed, turning to this ‘‘vein" — 
catching as a drowning man at a straw, in the hope of 


226 


A CONSUL TO CHINA*. 


its restoring her to her old place in life. And at last, 
when there came a day that caused them all to start — a 
day marked by the actual discovery that could not fail 
to stir up wild expectations — the knowledge that wealth 
untold, thousands, perhaps millions, lay buried at their 
feet, under the spurs of the Blue Kidge Mountains, there 
came with it a dead check, a blank wall, builded straight 
across their road to fortune. Less than twenty miles 
away a similar vein had yielded enormously in profits to 
its owner. Was it malice of Fate? Certain it was they 
had neither the money to advertise nor influence men, nor 
means, with which to hire labor and appliances — the 
great blocks and boulders of stone must lie untouched 
over their beds — there was no hand to break or shape 
them or transmit or develop them for the erection of 
monuments or columns or palaces. Horace jeered at the 
mere idea — his was a calm, critical, practical sense. 

But had means been at hand — had they managed to 
interest the right party, these quarries might have sup- 
planted the product of Georgia used in the construction 
of the new Corcoran Gallery of Art. 

Mercy had tried to impress upon her husband the fact 
that his mother was not well. He promised to go to her 
at once. With this assurance fresh in mind, she had 
risen the morning after her last visit to her mother-in- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


22 ^ 


law, feeling brighter in spite of misgivings of the night 
previous. She decided to rise quietly, and go upon her 
mission in time to return for breakfast. She walked 
upon these expeditions downtown, avoiding the cable 
cars and herdics — going upon her duty mission with a ' 
light, elastic step — glad with the breath of pure life 
within, the freshness of the early morning, and keenly 
alive to humanity as presented, while the rest of the 
world slept. Groping about for this or that in the 
obscurity, she made her toilette and went out softly, clos- 
ing the door of the bedroom behind her. She sat in the 
library for a moment, waiting for Jemima to bring her a 
basket, and as she waited, she reviewed the situation 
with the clearness born of a night’s rest and a refreshed 
brain. 

After all, their pecuniary straits were small in 
comparison to the struggles of some people, especially 
people burdened with families of children — here she 
smothered a sigh. Success might come to them at last. 
Cousin Honora’s check had accomplished wonders in 
liquidating obligations — the money she had received 
from her publishers was only half-gone. Before it dis- 
appeared her father’s quarries would be opened and sold, 
and through her, his wife, Boswell would be restored to 
confidence in himself and life. He had been deeply 


228 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


humiliated by poverty — he had suffered bitter disap- 
pointment. Men had to meet men — there was no draw- 
ing within the sanctity of four walls and covering up 
defeat. Her mind lingered upon him, as he slept, with 
renewed tenderness. His mother had dwelt upon their 
love for each other. She had been too harassed at the 
time to appreciate it fully, but it had been kind of her 
to say such things. She had come to her, the penniless 
bride of her favorite son, and madam had opened her 
heart and her arms to the motherless girl. And now, if it 
came her way, both mother and son should lie upon a 
bed of roses for the rest of their days. 

As all women of pride and character, Mercy did not 
depreciate herself. She was conscious of gifts, of points 
possessed, and thankful for what these and appearance 
and position had given her, aside from a certain aris- 
tocracy of mind, which she recognized. She was thor- 
oughly unselfish. She had been a true wife. Eoswell 
and herself had had their little differences, of course — 
honest difference of opinion — but nothing like the 
estrangement of the past few weeks. He was desperate. 
What an appalling destiny had not the younger element 
of Southern society had to confront since the Civil War? 
If it had been hard for the older members of the social 
fabric to face altered habits and broken fortunes, it had 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


229 


been bitterer still for the succeeding generation, the men 
and women, reared to luxury, taught to look upon life as 
a careless summer’s day — to meet the difficult current of 
self-preservation and its defeat. 

A cup of hot cocoa had waited for the young mistress, 
and as she drank it, she meditated upon these and other 
subjects connected with her married life. Her late 
literary ventures had encouraged her to renewed effort, 
although she was convinced that in future as in the past, 
the greatest success would probably be achieved by per- 
sons not compelled to write as a means of subsistence. 
Several characters and scenes in the novel she was writ- 
ing flitted through her brain. She crossed over to her 
desk and jotted down an idea, smiling as she did so. 
The novelists of the day were busy describing women of 
beauty at the expense of character. 

As she turned to gather up her gloves she saw another 
glove — a long, pearl-colored, twelve-buttoned, Paris kid 
— lying beside the cabinet. She stooped to pick it up. 
The room had not been put in order for the day, and as 
the glove fell back into its place, Jemima crossed the 
floor with the basket in her hand. Jemima imitated her 
mistress. She stooped and lifted the telltale member 
for an instant, then let it fall. ‘‘Dar ’tis, honey,” said 
she, ‘^take good look at it, b’long ter dat fine lady what 


230 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


cum here in de kerridge ter ax an’ ax fer Marse Eoss. I 
gwine ter pisen her.” 

''Who, Mima?” She was not aware she asked a ques- 
tion until the girl replied ; 

"Why, dat Miss Addie Shovel dat wuz — dis chile ain’t 
forgit dem snaky-fied eyes o’hern. She sot dem eyes on 
Marse Eoss dat time she cum er visitin’ in ole Virginny 
— yo’ wuz way at Miss Mackay’s school, honey — an’ she 
ain’t took dem eyes offen him yit. I gwine ter pisen 
dat woman sho’.” 

Mercy had heard Jemima threaten the butcher and 
baker and milkman each successively, and was not 
alarmed. But her mind was, all at once, full of sudden 
alarm. The servant proceeded with her morning duties, 
after her mistress told her, "It’s natural she should be 
fond of your master and his mother — they are old friends 
you know.” Unconvinced she closed the door on her 
mistress softly. 

All at once the cramped little flat filled Mercy with 
intense loathing. She could not get her breath. She 
shuddered and sank into the nearest chair. Her face 
was as pale as death, and her mouth twitched nervously. 
For a time she sat perfectly numb, gazing straight be- 
fore her. Noises about the house, in the street, reached 
the room, but made no impression upon her. Jemima 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


231 


was cheerfully humming another verse of the hymn she 
esteemed sacred : 

“Mind, my sister, how y o' step on de cross' 

My name's written on high, 

Yo' foot might slip an’ yo’ soul git lost, 

My name’s written on high." 

Mercy wondered if she, Mercy Thornton, had ever 
sung a tune, or laughed, or been happy in all the days 
of her life. Her strained senses gave way to physical 
pressure, succeeded by a sickening faintness. She 
pressed her hands to her temples, pushing back the 
lovely, fine, pale hair. The furniture in the room 
seemed to whirl about her, and drops of perspiration 
started out upon her forehead. A cloudy sky was look- 
ing in through the half-closed shutters. The fakirs of 
the street were alert and shrieking aloud their respective 
wares. Presently she ceased to think and sat staring 
vacantly, a nervous smile playing about her features. 
She looked at the glove lying where Jemima had shoved 
it — one tiny finger peeping from beneath the cabinet. A 
wild trembling, mixed with bitter disgust seized her. This 
passed, and she staggered to her feet, suddenly recollect- 
ing Eoswell asleep in the bedroom. No sound broke 
from her as she clasped her hands convulsively. She 
must escape while she could. She could not meet him. 


232 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Fresh air — fresh air — she opened the door and crept 
limply down the stairway. She moved laboredly, as 
one who has received a physical blow. In the street she 
summoned what strength she was capable of and walked 
slowly toward Fifteenth Street, and thence on to Penn- 
sylvania Avenue, toward what had been talked of as a 
future flower market — and on and on to Center Market. 

If she saw or heard what was passing in the street it 
was as one walking in a dream. Her hands and feet 
were as cold as ice, but her cheeks burned feverishly. 
The skies had overcast — a mist came creeping up. She 
found herself incapable of purchases. After awhile she 
gave up the effort, took an avenue car, and after an 
exchange at Fourteenth Street she got out near the 
corner of Franklin Square. She was entirely indiffer- 
ent to the cold and a dreary London mist that had com- 
menced to settle and fall in insistent drops of rain. 
Dripping umbrellas pushed past her, but sensation 
seemed dulled. Her umbrella was at home — the basket 
in the car — the muff of beaver strung on a ribbon about 
her neck — screened the nervous working of the hands. 
Her face lost its hot flush and grew calm and cold. In 
an impassive way she thought of her husband — she 
recalled her own life. There was no room for the spirit 
of revenge within her — only longing to escape before 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


233 


she should be publicly dishonored. She strove to settle 
upon some story of lives that had drifted apart, but her 
thoughts wandered, and she could come to no fixed 
conclusion. She must wait and devise some plan for 
herself in composed moments. When she acted, it 
should be without haste or stigma to any. Exhausted, 
she sat down upon one of the soaking benches in the 
park. It seemed natural to strive to get close to nature 
in her trouble — even such makeshift nature as was here. 
Unhappy events started forth. When she was young 
and helpless she had suffered. Had she been living in 
the paradise of a fool and forgotten? But why, why 
should her trust and faith in life — in the goodness of God 
be shaken? 

A dazed incredulity at the mere idea of happiness in 
connection with her life was borne in upon her. Why, 
her childhood had been intruded upon by gnawing 
anxieties — her girlhood had been harrowed by humilia- 
tion and bitter sorrow. Was this why she had accounted 
as small the petty ills, the poverty of late years ? Ay, 
she had been free from certain griefs that had once been 
her daily portion. Could it be that a brief while ago 
one man had made her perfect happiness? She had 
loved and trusted him. Could it be he had ever loved 
her? Was it possible? What did it all amount to now? 


234 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


At present, she bad neither the courage to face him, 
nor any object or aim — beyond a mad desire to escape 
that which threatened her. Neglected? Deserted? 
Was that to come ? AVork ? Would work be possible wdth 
shattered nerves, life bereft of its moorings — the mar- 
riage tie of its holy of holies? 

She recalled the scene at the ball of the Thorntons — 
all the scenes and deceptions that had preceded and 
followed that scene. How easily she had forgiven him 
his first repudiation of her. If he was false, who was true ? 
Could she believe in human truth again? Did a God of 
pity mean that she should not only suffer, but should be 
ashamed? What had she done, or left undone, to 
deserve this? She had striven faithfully to serve Him — 
to be true to all trusts, true to all those with whom he 
had cast her lot. To whom should she go? Not to 
madam — let her be in peace — not to Laura or her father 
— not to Horace or his wife — Annette — nothing cruel 
ever came her way — doubtless she was one of the chosen. 
A queer, unnatural smile came and went about her lips 
at this thought. A laboring man trudged past in the 
rain, whistling a popular air — one that Boss and herself 
had played together — she drew back, stabbed to the 
heart. She softened as the strain filled the air, thinking 
—not of the brave spirit of the workman — but of the 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


235 


sweet old times, the dear old violin times — thinking of 
Boss as he turned her music with bow in hand ; the 
instrument under his chin — looking into her eyes — 
thinking of him as he sat beside her sewing or writing 
table of evenings, now and again speaking to her, glanc- 
ing continuously from book or paper, her way, with a 
lover’s fond glance; reading aloud to her a name, a 
sentence, a paragraph — interested in all that was of 
interest to her, in all her small projects, planning a 
surprise for her at Easter and Christmas and New Year. 
Last Christmas it had been a dagger of gold for her hair 
— she had chided him for extravagance, but had been 
pleased. Little things stand out in retrospection when 
our souls are troubled. Had she known that he had 
gone without a fire in his office to enable him to compass 
a dagger without dross — had she known that to the pretty 
golden bauble could be traced his first deep-seated cold 
—contracted sitting in a chilled room — what difference 
could that have made now? 

The whole thing was so unreal — so out of all question. 
It was some terrible dream from which she would waken 
presently. Was she losing her hold upon things? That 
must be. She was losing her -hold. Insanity had never 
been one of the ills of her family, but intemperance led 
to it — science was teaching its origination in the poisons 


236 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


of the body, the waste or destruction of the brain cells. 
She shrank from the idea. Twelve years ago, when her 
brother Basil had been murdered in Paris, she had slept 
at night fitfully with dreams of horror and when morn- 
ing came again, what an awakening had been hers! It 
had been a realistic dream portraying hideous reality. 
But this was no dream. Then she went back to insan- 
ity, to the asylum. She thought of the only place of the 
kind she had ever seen. A gentleman’s beautiful home 
converted by his will into a private asylum for a limited 
number of unfortunate gentility. It was a large double 
house, with cheerful rooms, situated among tall trees of 
oak — there were library and dining-rooms, and drawing- 
rooms, with a piano, and other musical instruments, 
beside some really beautiful things — a large bay window 
filled with blooming plants. To each person was allotted 
a bedroom and bathroom attached, and a special attend- 
ant. That had not seemed such a dreadful place to end 
one’s days in — but, she recollected, a place like that was 
intended for the wealthy, the cared-for — not the de- 
mented, without money or friends. When the commis- 
sioners of lunacy came to sit upon her case, some doctor 
would be kind and pitiful; but another, perhaps, thin 
and wiry, with ferrety eyes, would penetrate to the 
crumbling cells of her brain, and decide her mental 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


S37 

status — declare her a lunatic. She would be put in an 
ambulance and hauled away to some wretched place, the 
like of which she had not seen, and confined behind bars 
and bolts of iron. Oh, the pity, the pain, the torture of 
it all! 

But she was not mad. If there was one thing of w^hich 
she was positive, absolutely certain, it was of the 
strength and clearness of her brain. ‘^Self-reverence, 
self-knowledge, self-control' ’ — these three she must keep 
before her— suffer, and be strong. 

After a long space she rose to her feet. A small boy, 
with a face prematurely old, whom in days past she had 
helped and talked with, had come to sit under the drip- 
ping trees beside her — watching her every now and then 
as he sat. He gave a low chirp, half-whistle, and a bird or 
a squirrel would come from some corner of its own, in 
answer to his call. This was a family that he was bringing 
up at the expense of the government. But Mercy seemed 
to see nothing of his usual methods to-day. The child 
wondered if the pretty lady was ill. She rose to her 
feet, a specter of herself. Where was the healthy, 
happy spring of a few weeks ago? Her beauty w^as 
grievously impaired. The eyes of the lad followed her 
mournfully. 

f It was late afternoon, and the darkness over everything. 


238 A CONSUL TO CHINA. 

had occasioned the lighting of a few wavering gas jets. 
At five o’clock it would be quite dark. The sky was 
lowering and somber and the pedestrians hurried along. 
Mercy moved in a slow, labored way — her own door came 
in sight, and she made an effort to cross the street and 
reach it. At the corner three women of dusky color stood 
under one umbrella, as she passed. Their accents and 
the dialogue that followed bespoke the recent importa- 
tion from the other side of the Potomac. 

‘‘Git out de way nigger — let de lady pass.” 

“ ’Sense me — ’sense me — I saw de lady cummin’ an’ 
I ’tend ter git out de way.” 

‘‘Lawdy! dat’s young Marse Eoss Thornton’s wife. 
Golly! don’t she look bad?” 

“White ez er sheet an’ dem eyes jes’ shine, bigger’n 
er saucer.” 

“Black under dem eyes like somebody done strike 
her.” 

“Tain’t he den — he jes’ dote on her.” 

“ ’Tis dese skeeters in de fall an de microps an’ mol- 
lar-rio, dat has eaten up dat bloom an’ make dem eyes so 
big.” 

Mercy, unhearing, unheeding, went by composedly, and 
finally touched the bell in the hall of the apartment 
house. Leaving the elevator, she opened the door of the 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


239 


library and. entered the room with a set look on her face. 
The room was in shadow, but she saw Roswell stretched 
on a couch. He looked up, and in the dimness noted 
the strained expression of her countenance— and rose at 
once, coming to her side. 

‘^What is the matter?” asked he, have been anxious 
about you, Mercy. Where have you been all day?” 

‘"In the park,” she answered. 

He touched the rain-soaked garments. “Not in the 
pouring rain ? You are wet to the skin. ’ * 

“I know,” replied she mechanically. 

“What have you been doing?” asked he impatiently ; 
“tramping for some miserable committee?” He had 
prided himself upon the aloofness of his wife from all 
conventions, committees, women’s wrangles — she had 
simply not cared for these doubtful honors, absorbed in 
home and intellectual interests. “Mercy, you will never 
rest until you are ill.” 

She said nothing in reply. 

“Go get some dry things, then come tell me all about 
it. I know you have been looking after Leo — and your 
husband has been here waiting for you all this dreary 
day.” 

Then she gave way, sobbing. He put his arm about 
her and assisted her into the bedroom. He went back 


240 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


to the other room and remained standing th^re for some . 
time, overcome by anxious thought. j 

‘‘She looks wretchedly, ’’ said he to hiniself. “I hope 
Adele has not worried her. Of course not. It’s that 
little rascal, Leo — the drunken father has been beating 
the little chap again for charming the pets in the square 
or for hankering after some old violin.” But, in spite of 
this solution, he was haunted by a dread of something 
wrong with his wife — something that had hurt her per- 
sonally. Adele was inclined to be reckless where her 
own desires and wishes were concerned. 

Mercy changed her dress, and they dined together, or 
made futile attempts that way. When the cloth was 
withdrawn she brought a scroll of music and steadily 
applied herself. Boswell read the haggard tension of 
her face and without further questioning persuaded h«r 
to retire. ' 

“You have been overdoing your strength for some 
time, and you will be sick next — if not more careful. 
You have always had such splendid health, Mercy. I 
am anxious about mamma and perhaps inclined to exag- 
gerate. I was there at ten o’clock, as I promised you — 
and came straight home — she could hardly speak — was 
suffering with a contraction of the throat.” 

His wife heard and looked at him, but could not utter 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


241 


a word. A certain mental exhaustion had followed the 
excitement of the day. It is only possible to endure up 
to a given point. After that, one’s power of resisting 
vanishes, swallowed up by complete collapse. A long- 
ing for rest was her supreme desire. She was very, very 
tired, and a mere state of inanition seemed the only 
thing to be desired in her troubled state. To cease 
thinking appeared all that was worth struggling for. 
She was breaking up under her troubles, disheartened, 
cast down. But it never occurred to her to resort to 
artificial means to force rest, sleep. Her mind was 
naturally strong and healthy of tone, and admitted of no 
false idea of securing what she craved. 

Her husband had been pacing the floor for some time, 
his head hanging low upon his breast — every now and 
then looking toward her door. When he found at last 
she was resting quietly, he crept to her side and finding 
her eyes open, he whispered, am going to ask after 
mamma, let Horace know, and come right back.” 

In reality, he was anxious about his mother’s state of 
health, and eager to dispel unpleasant thoughts of 
Mercy. 

Hesitating awhile, as he left the house, he decided to 
go first to his brother. Mr. Horace Thornton was at 
home and greeted him warmly. Mrs. Horace Thornton 


242 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


was looking jaded after an afternoon at golf. Ladies of, 
fashion are not averse to risk or danger, damp fields or 
bicycle exercise if it is to bring flesh down. The freckles 
on the dark skin of Mrs. Thornton were as pronounced 
under the electric globe as were her dark eyes and hair. 
She was not in trim for fashionable callers — had not 
applied the usual amount of rosaline and rice powder. 
Society did not transgress the rules of etiquette to the 
extent of tipping its toes upon the heel of the dinner 
hour. There was always time for the collection of one’s 
forces — in her world. She leaned back in her favorite 
chair, adorned with ribbons of cerise, and yawned, and 
drawled, and lifted her eyelids languidly. Eepose was 
everything. 

Horace, as was his habit, when he could so indulge, 
dilated upon his phenomenal successes. 

' 'Enormous strokes of luck. You know I bought a street 
railway or so, in a southwestern Virginia town, during 
the boom, and sold it to New York capitalists at a clear 
profit of fifty thousand dollars. Bruce had to pay 
assessments on his purchases at the same time until he 
was beggared — that’s the difference. My speculations in 
wheat have been something handsome this year, as my 
sugar profits were last. I mean to roll in wealth, let 
them see what a poor Virginian can do for himself. The 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


243 


old commonwealth has had but one Croesus since the 
war — his wealth was inherited, and he lived at such a 
pace, I doubt if his money did himself or anybody else 
any good. I shall hold on to mine.’’ 

^‘Don’t you believe half you hear,” said Koswell. 
‘‘Virginia has more than one rich man still. The one 
you refer to did possibly spend a fortune on an orchid or 
a horse, but he helped hundreds to live while he lived, 
and when he died, forgot none who had a claim, and 
many who had not the slightest tie of blood are indebted 
to him to-day for homes.” 

“Oh, that’s mamma’s plan,” said Horace, as he 
glanced complacently around the room; “give until there 
is not a crust to subsist on.” 

“That reminds me,” said Boswell, “I came to tell you 
mamma seems far from well.” 

“What seems to be the matter?” asked Mrs. Horace 
Thornton, in an indifferent tone. 

“Not at all well — talks about the past. I am sure she 
would like to see you sometimes,” answered Koswell, 
looking at his brother. ^ 

“Yes, yes,” said Horace — “now I think about it — 
must be failing — Thomas,” to the footman crossing the 
hall, “bring some claret and cigars.” His wife rose, 
fearing another visitor. “Does she speak of me, really?” 


244 


A CONSUL TO CHINAo 


asked Horace in a half-whisper as his wife left the 
room. 

“She did to-day. Her mind seems to run that way.” 

“Maybe,” said Horace, “she needs a little help.” 

“I don’t doubt it; but that is not what she talks of. 
She was always heroic — never bore a grudge, never felt 
herself slighted ; but she is growing older and naturally 
feels hurt never to see you. It would do no harm to ask 
her here. She would not come. ” 

“Then what’s the use? Besides Mrs. Thornton has 
set her mind against it,” replied Horace briefly. 

“Take this,” said Roswell hastily, handing a parcel 
of crumpled banknotes to his brother. “I was obliged 
to use a bill or so. But she would not touch it. Horace, 
I must see you privately.” 

“All right,” answered Horace, putting the money in 
his pocket without looking at it. “Annette has a steep 
ticket to-night. When she goes up to dress,” nodding 
to his wdfe reseating herself, “we will have a game of 
pool.” 

“What is Mercy doing with herself?” inquired Ros- 
well’s sister-in-law, as after a prolonged yawn she 
sipped her wine. “I hear she has written something 
clever lately and expected to see it on the table of the 
Ladies’ Club. Mrs. Denherst has asked me to several of 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


245 


the Wednesday afternoon receptions. If Mercy could 
join the Women’s Press Club, it might be a chance for 
her.” 

Koswell was in no mood to hear his wife either dis- 
cussed or underrated. There had been something in her 
pain-stricken face to-night that touched him sorely — 
something that haunted him and stirred within ‘Hhe low 
beginnings” of remorse. "‘Mercy has never courted pub- 
licity,” said he. 

“What does a woman’s scribbling amount to any- 
way?” asked Horace bluntly. “I wish she had helped to 
advance you in law — you would have amassed a fortune 
in this time — with a wife to make your name popular 
among the right sort,” Then more considerately, “It’s 
slow work, old fellow, as it is. But your appointment 
to China, if in the air, is as sure as the stars that 
shine.” 

Koswell had been much depressed. 

“It’s a pity the District of Columbia has not had your 
high opinion of my legal ability,” said he. 

Mrs. Horace Thornton had withdrawn. 

“Eoss,” said his brother with more feeling, “the 
District of Columbia is overcrowded with a class of 
theoretical lawyers. If this were not so, you would be 
in the front rank of actual practitioners — wife or no wife. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


246 

Your skill and legal attainments — I say and stick to it — 
are of high order.’’ 

‘‘I am glad you do not visit my sins upon Mercy, ” 
said Koswell, ^^as you seemed inclined a moment ago.’ ■ 
‘^No,” said he, ‘^women have really very little to do 
with these things.” He did not say the presence of his 
wife sometimes irritated him. What he did say was, 
will go with you and see mamma to-morrow. Boss.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


247 


CHAPTEK XII. 

Of late Roswell Thornton rarely spent an entire morn- 
ing at his desk. Since, for lack of means to pay rents, 
he had been reduced to ‘"desk room,’’ in the office of 
another man, he had rather avoided the place. He had 
lost interest. Besides it humiliated him to move among 
busy men with idleness stamped upon him. That idle- 
ness was the force of circumstances did not lessen the 
mortification. 

Some alteration in his ego and in his habits had taken 
place also since the night his wife had come home, rain- 
drenched and haggard with misery. He hung about the 
house. He came punctually to dinner. But his mind 
was full of contradistinctions. He chafed under the 
condition of affairs and courted unexpected relief. He 
thought of his wife now tenderly, now with strange dis- 
satisfaction. Her manner and nature both seemed to be 
undergoing a change. Hers had been a nature singu- 
larly sweet, unbiased by impatience or intolerance. But 
her present attitude was puzzling. On two distinct 
occasions she had put on the trim cloth suit she wore in 


248 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


the street, to go and see Madam Thornton, and upon 
each she had retraced her steps, returning to the house 
simply saying she was in no mood for paying visits. 
Their positions were thus reversed. He was as anxious 
and urgent to have her see his mother as a short time 
before she had been to have him go. She talked none of 
her own accord, and when he spoke to her or sought to 
interest her, she answered sometimes as might one in a 
far-off country. This is always exasperating to the one 
who makes the effort to amuse or interest or arouse. 
She was not ill physically, her devotion to work was 
never steadier. She brought to mind a person whose 
whole existence was absorbed in solving a problem. Yet 
all appeals from the outside for sympathy, call or claim 
for assistance, met a scrupulous response. At times she 
lost sight of the presence of her husband, and moved as 
one in a dream, or sat buried in abstracted thought. 
Always she had the manner of one who waited for some 
anticipated event. This would have been intolerable to 
the man Eoswell was, if he had not also expected release 
— in some shape. A man can nearly always turn to 
matters exterior which counteract in a measure the 
sulphurous atmosphere of the disturbed hearthstone. 
Had he considered the possibility of throwing off all 
restraint, the unerring calm of his wife would have given 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


249 


him no ground to accuse her. But such an issue had 
never occurred to his mind. He had been astray, but 
very far from lost to redemption. 

The small Dresden clock on the dining-room mantel 
shelf had pealed forth ten o'clock a.m. Boswell had not 
taken his hat from its peg in the hall. Mercy was stand- 
ing by a table, assorting some pieces of silver that had 
been her mother's — a great social favorite in her day — 
and replaced each piece carefully in the small china 
press of mahogany. Boswell had stood by admiring this 
or that, striving all the while to bring a cheerful smile 
to her lips — a ray of the old sunny light to her eyes. 

‘"That's a child's cup," he said lifting a slight, quaint 
shape in silver and reading, “Mercy Warren, 1760," and 
underneath it “Mercy Warren Lloyd 1865." “Mercy," 
said he, “I saw such a cute little chap yesterday. 
Horace asked me to stop at B 's and get his photo- 

graphs. I am to meet him to-day at twelve o'clock. 
While I was waiting, a rather pretty young woman was 
trying to get her small boy of three to sit still for a pic- 
ture. She coaxed, and cajoled, called him her pet and 
darling, her dear little lamb — promised him everything 
in a candy and a toy shop, too — but had to give it up. 
The photographer told her if she would step into the 
next room, perhaps he could manage it. She stopped to 


260 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


put a curl in place, to give his necktie a touch, and 
reluctantly left him, whereupon the man leaned toward 
him, and fixing the little fellow with his e5^e, said, ^Stay 
still, you young rascal, or I’ll make you. ’ Without a 
whimper the child became still and the picture was taken. 
He was a brave little scrap, for when he scrambled down, 
and his delighted mother clasped him, ‘Oh darling,’ said 
she, ‘what did the nice gentleman say to you?’ he looked 
up into her face as cute as could be, and loudly lisped: 
‘Tay till, oo ’oung rastle, or I’ll make oo!” 

Mercy smiled faintly as he concluded the anecdote. 

“Good Lord,” said he, with sudden vehemence, “what 
is the matter with my wife? What have I done? As 
there is a God in heaven, I have not ’’ 

In the midst of this speech, and before she could pre- 
pare an answer, a servant brought in a letter. Boswell 
reached for it, and finding it addressed to Mercy, he 
passed it on to her. She laid it down, without breaking 
the seal. Her curiosity was, for the time, as numb as 
her other faculties. The silence continued — now a coal 
or some ashes fell from the grate to the hearth. 

“So you have no answer for me, Mercy?” 

But again there was a bustle about the door. This 
time the porter carried a significant yellow envelope. 
Boswell rose and tore off the cover. It read : 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


251 


^^Coine at once. Your mother ill. — Jerusha Tabb.” 

His mother might be ill — doubtless was, but Jerusha 
Tabb was notoriously officious. If he went at once, 
without waiting for Horace, he would probably find his 
mother propped in a big chair, laughing at Jerusha’s 
awkward way of adjusting a plaster or administering a 
drug. He would wait until twelve o’clock for Horace. 
If he failed to come, he would go after him. He crushed 
the message in the palm of his hand, then opened and 
smoothed it and tossed it over to Mercy. 

"‘Had you not better go at once, dear?” asked he. 

“If you desire it,” returned she coldly. 

Still for a moment she did not move, neither did she 
express regret or concern. She was persuading herself 
that she was indifferent. Certainly she had grown cold 
and self-constrained. It was only when she was writing, 
as if under the influence of a stimulant, that she seemed 
interested. It was all seeming. Thus engrossed she 
sought to conceal her sufferings, but the overwhelming 
sense of them was with her at all times. Both head and 
heart grew dizzy. Her pen, her hand were palsied. 
Her present life she had come to regard with absolute 
abhorrence. The presumption that for all suffering (and 
it comes so differently to different natures) there is to be 


252 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


compensation elsewhere or hereafter — cannot always be 
grasped. What lies beyond in the far country above 
this planet is manifested to us through hope, belief; 
when these are obscured all looks dark. On this morn- 
ing when Koswell strove to interest and arouse his wife, 
she was greatly disturbed inwardly, however outwardly 
composed. She was also possessed with the idea that a 
crisis in her life was approaching. 

When finally she left the house and had walked de- 
jectedly a few squares on her errand of strange reluct- 
ance — not apprehending any serious harm to Madam 
Thornton — Jemima’s bare black arm was inserted at the 
library door, where sat Roswell Thornton. She passed 
in a letter with a half-sullen look on her black face, and 
closed the door. She knew the green livery of the func- 
tionary who had borne it to their door. The telegram 
was worded : 

' ‘Presence required in regard to foreign mission. 

“Fitz Allen.” 

Folded inside was a sheet of foreign paper on which 
was written. 

“Come to my house on receipt of this. — A. R. R. ” 

The telegram fell among some books and papers on his 
wife’s desk. He twisted the ether sheet into spiral 


A CONSUL TO CNINA. 


253 


shape, crossed the floor and flung it into the grate. 
Then he got his coat and hat, buttoned his coat to the 
chin, and went out. 

He had not reached the second landing when the 
grisly head of his cook once more obtruded, but this 
time from the bedroom door, from which port she had 
been observing him through the keyhole. With some 
old fashioned minds, old-fashioned methods prevail. 
With stealthy, cat-like tread she stole across the floor, 
cautiously abstracted the note from the bed of ashes, 
where it lay shriveling ; straightened it out with grease- 
stained fingers, looked about for the slip of yellow paper 
that had come with it, darted upon it, and placed both 
with elaborate pains in one cover — as they had come — 
and laid the envelope prominently where it could not fail 
to attract the eye of the mistress on her return. She 
reckoned upon the return of the mistress preceding the 
master. 

‘‘Dar now,’' said she, with satisfaction, ‘^dat done. 
He ain’t gwine ter fool wid Miss Marcy like dat slick 
yaller rascal Barnaby fool wid dis chile. Not ef Mima 
kno’ it — not ef she got ter be flung back on her se’f. ” 

As Mercy walked toward the quarters of Madam 
Thornton an entirely new range of thought took posses- 
sion ot her. Her mind reverted to the goodness of her 


254 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


mother-in-law to herself. In early days, when she and 
Basil were left motherless, and their father had sought 
to drown his sorrows in the wine-cup, who but madam 
had encouraged and sustained them? Who had been as 
warm in praise of the bride of her son as Boswell’s 
mother? owe her so much,” reflected she, '‘so much 
I can never hope to repay.” Then she thought she 
should have urged her husband to come with her — should 
have exerted what influence she had left — for good. 
She was in a softer mood now, and prepared to acknowl- 
edge that the Author of our Being has designed that the 
good we do for others should yield a purer, a more last- 
ing satisfaction than the good we do for ourselves. 

The halls of the apartment house were dank and damp. 
For the flrst time Mercy shrank from the heavy atmos- 
phere, regarded by many people as rank with fever 
germs and malaria, owing to the proximity of the river 
and the Flats of the Potomac, while others, long-lived 
people, who have spent their days in this portion of the 
city, and have seen the Flats reclaimed by feats of 
engineering skill, as strenuously deny the suggestion of 
malaria — Mercy pushed open a door opening on the first 
hallway and entered. Miss Jerusha Tabb was pacing to 
and fro. She gave a grim sign of recognition. Her 
thin lips unclosed. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


255 


Where is Koswell Thornton?’’ asked she. 

"'I left him at home,” said his wife. 

‘‘She asks for him continualb". ” 

A flush suffused the pale face of Mercy Thornton. 
She had lost the freshness of her beauty in the last few 
weeks. 

“How long has dear mamma been ill? When was she 
taken worse?” 

“Suddenly, this morning. I dropped in as usual and 
found her lying across the sofa unconscious. I had the 
doctor and her sons called at once by ’phone.” 

‘‘Is her condition serious?” 

Miss Tabb bristled from top to toe. “It means 
death, ’ ’ said she curtly. 

Mercy’s eyes filled. "Without a word she turned and 
sped long the hall and into the street, as fast as her feet 
could take her. “He must come,” said she, and did not 
pause until she reached her own doorstep. In her apart- 
ments perfect silence reigned. Eoswell was not there. 
Jemima had finished her work and gone out upon some 
errand. The shades were stretched to their utmost 
height in the library — the noonday sun, weak and wintry 
— was strong enough to expose every interior detail. 
The room looked cheerless, and to Mercy, shabby. She 
wondered where Boss had gone — then smiled in a ghastly 


m 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


way. She looked at the attenuated skim of snow on the 
housetops opposite, then she caught sight of the care- 
fulb^-placed envelope alongside of the letter she had re- 
ceived and left unopened on the table in her recent pre- 
occupation of mind. Presently she picked up the 
envelope, detached the telegram, reading it once, twice 
through. She cast her eyes over the other line of writ- 
ing on the separate sheet. Both floated down at her 
feet. When she flnished these brief sentences her lips 
were dry and her eyes burned feverishly. She pushed 
the papers away from her skirts. For a moment she 
stood buried in thought — striving to devise some course 
of action for herself — battling with the bitterness that 
threatened to wreck composure. She made her decision. 
She picked up the unopened letter and mechanically re- 
turned to the bedside of Madam Thornton. 

Out of the dimness of Madam Thornton’s bedchamber 
Mercy could distinguish the sick woman, lying with 
half-closed eyes — her features pale and waxen — her 
beautiful, abundant white hair streaming over the pil- 
lows. A solitary figure moved to meet Mercy. 

^^Is she conscious?” w^hispered she, as she went on at 
the physician’s side. 

'"At intervals,” returned he, "I will wait in the next 
room. Miss Tabb has gone for the Kector of Epiphany. ” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


257 


^^Mamma/' asked Mercy softly, when madam at last 
stirred, ‘‘do you know me? Mercy?’’ 

“And Koss,” said Madam Thornton opening her fine 
gray eyes. It was very touching — the way she uttered 
the name of her son — her perfect belief in seeing him at 
his wife’s side. Scalding tears came to the eyes of the 
girl. She sank beside the bed, unable to frame a syl- 
lable. “Why does — my boy not come?” the feeble voice 
implored, “What keeps him away from me? I have 
something I must tell him.” 

Mercy demanded courage of herself. “I am afraid he 
has gone out of town,” she answered unsteadily, “but I 
will wire him to come back, mamma — to come at once.” 

“Glad you are with me, Mercy. I have been dream- 
ing of your schoolmate — my little Violet — sleeping under 
the Virginia hills — so long. But Eoss? Where do you 
say he is?” As the words came slowly, in disjointed 
sentences, Mercy felt as if she too were dying by inches. 

“He will be here,” said she reassuringly, “Mamma, he 
is sure to come. ” 

“He did not know I was ill when he went. I am sure 
of that. Can he come soon?” 

“He would be here now if he knew. Mamma, he is 
sure to come,” repeated she falteringly. 

“Yes,” said his mother, moving her head wearily from 


258 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


side to side, ^‘1 know he would. He loves his mother. 
If I could only see my boys — Koss you say is away? 
And Horace — won’t Horace come now?” 

The heart of Mercj^ was ready to break. She put out 
a cold hand and pressed the dry palm on the coverlet. 

‘"They will both be here presently. Miss Jerusha tele- 
phoned. Don’t worry, mamma. ” 

""I hope so. Horace is not hard-hearted, he was an 
ambitious lad. He thinks I have been kind to every one 
but myself — but ask him, ask the boys, child — not to let 
poor William Stedman be sent to the almshouse. He 
won’t live long — and he is of their blood — served in the 
Confederate navy under their uncle, the gallant Admi- 
ral Dix. ” 

""Do not disturb yourself, dear mamma, you make your- 
self ill — he shall be cared for. I will go myself to the 
Southern Veteran Association and see about it at once. 
Do not distress your mind about anybody,” plead 
Mercy, ""I will do all I can. I owe you so much.” 

""Yes, I gave you my boy — my little Koss. He has been 
a good husband to you, Mercy?” 

Merc 3 ^ was beyond utterance. 

""I was asking if Koss has been a good husband to you, 
Mercy?” 

Mercy tried bravely to speak. Her hands fell limply 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


259 


She must not torture this faithful, failing heart. ‘"Yes,” 
answered she, “Oh, yes.” 

“And you love each other?” 

“Yes.’^ 

With a sigh of relief madam moved again. 

“Tell Horace I have never spent a dime that was not 
my own — and tell him — tell Horace, when he sees me no 
more, that I do not owe a debt in the world. For a few 
seconds silence was complete. “I want to see my boys,” 
plaintively, as the shadows deepened upon the face of the 
dying woman. “I am glad you and Boss are happy. I 
should like to live to see you with children — but you will 
think of me sometimes — won’t you, dear?” 

“I can never forget you, dear mamma.” 

“And Boss?” Was it something in the girl’s tone that 
reached the consciousness of the dying mother? “Prom- 
ise that you will be the same true wife to him. He is 
easily led, but his heart is in the right place. Promise to 
stand by him, to be faithful to him.” 

Mercy could have cried aloud, “How is it possible?” 
but to stifle any such impulse she lifted up a face grief- 
distorted, over which the tears were streaming, and for- 
getting all but the dying mother pleading for her son, 
said “Faithful to the end.” 

“Faithful to the end,” repeated madam, a sweet. 


200 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


serene smile settling upon her face and illuminating 
it. 

Five minutes later the cerulean doors of glass swung 
back. Miss Tabb entered accompanied by the assistant 
rector of the Church of the Epiphany, who came straight 
to the bedside and knelt there, speaking to madam in a 
low, reverent tone. He said a few prayers, after this, 
and recited a psalm, ending with the beautiful verses 
from the fourteenth chapter of St. John: '‘Let not your 
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid,” then quietly 
withdrew, promising to come again on the mor- 
row. 

The doctor entered and with a glance at his patient, 
w^ho lay faint and exhausted w^here she had fallen back 
upon the pillows, he motioned to Mercy, who sat with 
blanched face, a mute, grief-stricken figure beside the 
bed. He drew Mercy aside. 

"I have had numerous cases of grip,” said he, "the 
disease takes various forms — this is a case of valvular 
disease of the heart, aggravated by distress and cold — 
and, I fear, privation.” 

"She could not have taken an overdose of anything?” 
asked Miss Tabb, in a low tone. 

"I see nothing that points that way,” said the physi- 
cian decfdedly, looking at the calm, noble, refined old face. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


261 


have known her a lifetime. She was a kind, brave 
woman.’' 

Then he walked away to the window, pulling at the 
shade in an abstracted w^ay. Madam’s rooms were by no 
means gloomy. Large windows opened upon a balcony 
at the south, that gave upon what was a riotous garden 
in summer — the walls dividing from those of the neigh- 
bors were high, but he could see the Octagon, historic 
but deserted. He was accustomed to these old mansions 
and neglected gardens in the heart of the city, and they 
gave him food for reflection. It had been snowing fit- 
fully all day and as he turned again to his patient, the 
snow was falling heavily. 

As madam lay stretched back, her head slightly raised, 
Mercy noted the clear outline of her strong features — 
the marked likeness to the portrait of one of her ances- 
tors in colonial dress. The picture had hung over the 
chimney place at Thornleigh, near one of James II. Miss 
Jerusha Tabb could have told her it was not there now. 
She had instigated and eventually carried out pilgrimages 
to the old place in some of madam’s recent straits. She 
had seen to the careful packing of the relics and pictures 
in the first instance, and knew from whence to have them 
conveyed to the city and disposed of at private auction. 

Again the doctor returned from his post at the win- 


262 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


dow but this time he resumed his seat and felt the pulse 
of his patient. The end was near. It could not be long 
now. He was a humane man, and had admired and 
respected this representative woman of the old South 
and its times, dying before his eyes — but once he looked 
at his watch, his brow puckering with something like 
impatience as he consulted the timepiece. His time was 
not his own. 

The end came quickly after this. Between three and 
four o’clock Madam Thornton’s breathing became 
labored, gradually lessening to a sigh. She opened her 
eyes and caught at the coverlet spasmodically, once or 
twice, then grasping tried to speak. 

‘‘My — little — Boss,” was all that could be distin- 
guished. Her hands became blue and stiff. An ashen 
pallor settled over her face, slowly creeping over all. 

The doctor motioned the two women aside, and in his 
capacity, his businesslike way, proceeded to adjust the 
limbs and draw the sheet up over the dead face of 
Madam Thornton. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


263 


CHAPTER Xm. 

After Mercy Thornton and Miss Tabb had spoken 
together in subdued, tear-choked voices — Miss Jerusha 
shone in a new character to-day — the latter said with 
real concern: 

‘‘Where can the boys be Mercy?*’ 

“Heaven only knows,” said Mercy, “but if Ross is to 
be found, he shall know.” 

“There is something you should know,” said Miss 
Tabb, “I cannot bear to speak of it here, it seems 
desecration,” then she lowered her voice. When her 
voice regained its usual high key, “The women will soon 
be here,” said she, “you had better go now — for a 
time.” 

Mercy was strangely self-collected when she left the 
rooms of the late Madam Thornton. She stopped a 
moment in the corridor, and as she paused beneath a 
feeble gleam of light she opened and read the letter of 
which she had been oblivious all day. It conveyed news 
of a startling nature — it told her astounding things. It 
had been addressed to her by a stranger, probably a 


264 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


maid, but was written in the strained characters of Miss 
Honora Thurston. It stated that she — Miss Thurston, 
and the father of Mercy, Dr. Lloyd, had been quietly 
united by marriage in the church of the parish on that 
day. They should go abroad at once. They had not 
informed any of their friends of the proposed nuptials 
for the simple reason that they were unwilling to pro- 
voke opposition from any quarter. Dr. Lloyd had been 
able to make a cash sale of his marble quarries, with a 
royalty reserved. This meant wealth. But she, Mercy, 
of course came first. If her husband could spare her to 
them for a year or eighteen months, she would have com- 
plete change of scene and an opportunity to resume her 
musical studies under Lamperti in Dresden, while the 
wedded pair traversed the old continent. Boss was, of 
course, to be considered. They proposed to make him 
the London and Liverpool agent of affairs, as soon as 
matters could be brought into shape. This would be 
vastly more to his interest than any foreign post under 
government. To represent one’s country abroad of 
course gave one certain prestige at home, but eventually 
he would be entirely independent of all this. Their 
wealth would fall to his wife. But for the present he 
must be induced to join them abroad. If this plan was 
agreeable to Mercy, she should be ready to meet them, 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


265 


equipped for the journey, at the Potomac Kailroad 
station at twelve o’clock Thursday night, when they 
would be en route for the New York steamer. Passage 
would be taken for three people. 

The first impulse of Mercy on reading this letter was 
one of repudiation — almost indignant rage. How could 
Honora Thurston on the eve of all this be so basely un- 
mindful, so ungrateful to the dear, dead woman who 
had been her lifelong friend, as to recall the pittance 
she had made her in monthly payments in her time of 
need? The pride of madam had been so great that Miss 
Thurston had felt constrained to approach her in that 
way — but it was an understood thing between them — 
there was no old land claim. Again Mercy ran her 
eyes over the closely written sheets, reading for the first 
time some lines of cross-page writing that said: “I have 
wished to surprise dear Elizabeth. She must come to 
the depot with you. I have written her. I must secure 
to her what will make her comfortable in our absence.” 

‘"Ah!” and Mercy gave a sigh of relief. She had not 
forgotten, thank God. But married at fifty and sixty 
years — her father and Miss Honora Thurston, how absurd, 
peculiar, unlooked for — but again, had she ground for 
complaint? Her father was growing old and doubtless 
led a lonely lif§, JSe bad ^ right to mp^rry if he wiibed, 


26(3 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


She had married to please herself. Alas! what floods of 
bitter recollection. They offered her escape, without 
knowing, fair and honorable escape. No doubt the fat 
fingers of her stepmother had labored over these marvel- 
ous pages all the afternoon previous, the letter had come 
in by the eight o’clock train ; but even had she opened 
and read it when it was delivered by the postman, she 
had been given but one day to decide in, and that day, 
Thursday, was gone! 

Full of these confusing thoughts she passed into the 
street. A fall of snow that was entitled to a premium 
for frigidity and slipperiness covered everything. Man 
and beast were faring alike and slow progress was the 
order of the hour. It did not impede the cable and 
electric transit, however, or the bicjde dexterously 
handled. The snow had been heavy while it lasted. It 
had risen to an inch and a half in a short time, and had 
converted the asphalt pavements into as slippery a 
paiade as can be conceived. As Mercy crossed Seven- 
teenth Street she saw approaching, directly in her path, 
a happy-looking, simpering, overdressed young lady, 
who was picking her way between two dudish-looking 
young men, to whom she was talking animatedly — she 
was telling them how Blind Tom had shown intelligence 
in regard to SQuudi He had learijed to repeat words 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


267 

early, tliougli words had no meaning to him — in the 
same way he repeated entire conversations, without the 
slightest understanding of them — his own language had 
never been much more than inarticulate sounds. He 
could recite Greek, French, Latin and German, and play 
on the piano from memory any piece of music once 
heard, no matter how intricate, and could repeat note by 
note the improvisations of another. Indeed, Blind Tom 
had retained as many as five thousand musical composi- 
tions in his memory. 

One young man at her side carried an immense bun- 
dle of flowers, done in brown tissue paper — a perilous 
undertaking for a fashionable youngster, but he was in 
the service of a popular lady. Miss Betty Summers had 
abruptly closed her tirade, stopping in front of Mercy. 

‘‘Why, Mrs. Thornton,” said she, “how do you leave 
our dear Madam Thornton ? I had a perfect ovation in 
concert last night, and was so sorry she could not be 
there. I am taking her the roses she loves.” 

It was difficult for Mercy. The girl stood twirling 
the end of a long boa of feathers between her fluctuating 
fingers. 

“Poor mamma,” said she gently, “died about three- 
quarters of an hour ago. ’ " 

She passed on. The Georgetown and Fourteenth 


268 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Street cars were beginning, as the streets grew heavier, 
to string along the avenue in a line. A year or two be- 
fore, when horses did the work, assistance would have 
been given these by tying the feet in coffee sacks, and 
salting the tracks, which enabled them to keep a slight 
footing. In a short time, however, the sweepers would 
be put on, and the cars would be running regularly. A 
number of carefully groomed, bob-tailed steeds, could be 
seen in the care of the hostlers on the way to be rough 
shod in anticipation of sleighing. As Mercy crossed the 
streets in the fast gathering dusk, she was hardly con- 
scious what thoughts possessed her to the exclusion of 
others. She failed to notice either the crowded cars and 
herdics or the throngs of men and women that jostled 
each other. A horse driven guardedly in a cab fell in 
a death-struggle before her eyes, and as it rolled over a 
crowd of men and boys clustered about the poor beast. 
The blade of a knife cut the traces loose. No one dared 
put the suffering creature out of its misery, without per- 
mission from its owner. Mercy pursued her waj", en- 
tireb^ lost to this scene, or any other, until accosted by a 
panting, out-of-breath person, limping and bespattered 
with mud. The long-winded poet, Winfield Scott 
Long, was beyond recognition in his deplorable plight. 

‘‘Oh,’’ cried he, halting, “Mrs. Thornton, is it? I 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


269 


was on my way to ask after dear Cousin Elizabeth, and 
to tell her I have been invited to read before the Ameri- 
can Authors’ Association of New York City. I slipped 
and fell into one of those excavations that killed General 
Werton you know. I fear I am lamed for life — but how 
did you leave our dear friend?” 

‘"Poor mamma died a little while ago, ” again stated 
Mercy softly. So the dead face of Madam Thornton 
seemed to go with her through the gloom — but she was 
remembered. She had longed to be remembered — 
longed for interest and affection. She had given both 
unstintedly while she lived. The figure of the melan- 
choly poet leaned for support against the iron railing of 
the White House lawn, and as he limped forward, a wild 
scene of confusion ensued. A couple of heavily-laden 
trucks, backed one against the other — drivers stopped 
their vehicles — a crowd of spectators assembled on the 
sidewalk. There was a call for the police. Two men 
lifted the body of an old man from the gutter. He 
could not stand upon his feet, and had to be supported. 

“Lost his balance,” said one. 

“Too many cocktails,” said another. 

“I saw the accident,” asserted the positive voice of 
Carlo Dent, “that old gentleman was knocked over by a 
bicycle.” 


2W 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘ Emergency Hospital wagon,” directed a big guardian 
of the peace, brandishing a club that might have done 
abler duty a moment earlier. 

Mercy, with ears and eyes alert once more, knew not 
what impelled her, but as the crowd parted to give room 
to Carlo Dent, struggling for passageway, until he 
reached the side of the unconscious sufferer, she drew 
close to both. It was as she feared. Poor old Billy 
Stedman, his thin, red hair blowing about his ruddy old 
face — his eyes closed — gone to meet a brighter fate on 
other seas. No doubt when death met him by the way- 
side, he was on his way to ask after his benefactress and 
friend — gone before. 

‘ 'Leave him to me,” said Carlo Dent gently, lifting 
his hat of felt to Mercy — then he ordered some men to 
take the lifeless body to his own rooms. What a day ! 
And the worst to be met. 

Mercy remembered the two people recently stricken 
by the hand of God were not what the world calls 
"pious.” She could not frame a prayer herself, to- 
night. W^hat availed her now ? It was easy enough for 
the happy to be good, it was easy for those who possessed 
much to give generously. She was exceedingly embit- 
tered. Her good fortune she could not grasp. She 
looked up at the sky, but heaven seemed cold and dis- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 271 

tant. TJae lamps began to flare, and the gloom was sud- 
denly ablaze with electric light. Gusts of wind went 
swirling along the streets, rustling the newspapers in 
the hands of eager newsboys. A few owners of sleighs 
were hazarding a ride, and the merry tinkling of the bells 
could be heard in all directions. The streets were filled 
with human forms. Mercy could not hurry. Nothing 
smote her consciousness keenly. The strain upon her 
mind and nerves was being succeeded by a stolid numb- 
ness. Within but a few blocks of her destination she 
suddenly gave out. Presently she hailed a horse car 
and made her way inside. It was packed of course with 
the homogeneous crowd of struggling men and women. 
Men from the halls of congress on their way to dinner — 
office people, government clerks on their way home, 
women wdth bundles, women with babies, women in 
satin and velvet — jammed in between men of every stamp 
and degree, from the well-fed, well-clothed statesman to 
his shabby constituent, white or black. All promptly 
exhibiting American courtesy, however, and a keen 
appreciation of circumstances. What had induced her 
to come? thought Mercy, as she caught at a strap 
attached to the roof of the democratic conveyance, but 
was immediatelly pressed into a seat by a gentleman who 
had followed her, 


272 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


shall be buried in Rock Creek Cemetery/’ said 
Carlo Dent, and immediately turned aside. 

‘‘I like that,” burst forth from an unsightly woman, 
who, loaded with bundles was struggling for standing- 
room among a lot of men at that end of the car, ‘‘I might 
stand till I drop — that slim gal slips in here and gets a 
seat in the twinkling of an eye.” 

‘‘Plenty of room!” shouted the conductor, “move up 
— move up there.” 

When Mercy left the car at the next corner and 
mounted the steps of the house she called home, no one 
was in sight — as the car passed a man leaned forward 
and looked out anxiously until she put her foot on the 
steps — Roswell, of course, would not be there. 

On the way to her own floor she leaned heavily against 
the sides of the stuffy elevator. As she stepped into the 
library her husband came to meet her, a bright look on 
his face. She was beyond surprise or any expression of 
it. He was wearing his greatcoat and had his hat in 
hand. The room was heated to an intense degree, and 
beside the gas, a lamp was turned up to the highest 
limit of effulgence, The atmosphere was weighted with 
the fragrance of a great bunch of Parma violets, 

“So glad you have come, Mercy, ” said he, have 
fsuqh news for you, 'When I got to Horace's l^ouse he 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


273 


said we must goto the senate chamber without delay. 
He was about to add, am all right. The president 
has asked for speedy confirmation by the senate — ’’ but 
observing something in her expression unusual, he 
hesitated. 

^‘Yes,’' said she. 

''1 was just starting to bring you home. I hope 
mamma is resting well.’’ 

Mercy looked at him, or probably it was beyond him. 
She did not speak. Directly she turned away from him. 

""Had I better not go there now?” 

Then she wheeled and faced him. He had never seen 
such a storm in her face. 

""Yes,” said she, ""as we both are to travel we had 
better take the same road — for decency’s sake. But you 
need never trouble about your mother again.” 

""What do you mean?” asked he. 

""I mean — she is dead.” 

He stood, turned to stone. After a long effort he 
asked, ""When did she — when did my mother die, 
Mercy?” 

Without waiting for her answer, he dropped into a 
chair, and as he heard her light footstep behind, him, he 
cried out to her, "^Oh, have pity on ine, Mercy Po not 

be so h^rd upgii ^ wretched 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


or* 4 

Her voice answered, as if coming from a distance, 
strange, metallic, “Hard? Listen — your mother died 
an hour ago I think — died calling for you, calling for 
the son she loved. And you? Where were you?’* 

“As God is my judge — ” he interrupted. 

“Oh, don’t say another word. I know you have 
broken her heart — you are ruining my life — dishonoring 
us all. I shall not deny it — I have known the bitter 
truth for weeks past. You can go your way now. Go 
where you please — do what you please, I shall not 
trouble you after this.*’ 

With a gesture of stern repudiation she turned from 
him, but impelled by some instinct of his suffering, in 
one respect at least, she resumed : 

“But first, if you have one atom of self-respect left go 
yonder where she lies and at least seem to pay her those 
marks of attention and affection due.” She was so close 
to him that her breath fanned his cheek. The passionate 
outcry of the girl’s soul thrilled him, but he made no 
effort to move. Another time he would have said, 
“Mercy you are unstrung. You know not what you say. 
In one breath you tell me we travel the same road, in 
the next that you never wish to see me again — one 
moment you say it is too late to go to dear mamma, the 
pext 70U say go at once,” But the shock had been too 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


275 


great to observe any play of words. He sat speechless, 
transfixed, immovable. 

^'You can never know what I have suffered. I have 
been tortured beyond endurance for her, and for you, 
and for myself. I can bear no more. Go.” And with 
the touch of irony that often mars a thrilling moment in 
the real drama of life, she swayed as she left him — went 
into her chamber and closed the door. He sat motion- 
less, staring with dry eyes into space. Finally he rose 
unsteadily and stood with head resting upon his arms, 
his arms resting on the mantelpiece. Then, without 
syllable or sigh he left the room, and later, the house. 

The servant who admitted him at the doors of Madam 
Thornton’s rooms gazed with sympathy upon her youngest 
son, who had just returned, of course. Long folds of 
black ribbon were hanging from the door knob. As Eos- 
well pushed the door open with trembling hands several 
familiar faces met his view. He saw Horace and 
Annette, Miss Jerusha Tabb, and the colonel as he 
entered. Horace looked up and silently made a place 
for him. Boss stood. He could hardly bear the sight 
of certain things associated with his mother — she whom 
he would greet, or be greeted by no more. Her shawl 
of camel’s hair thrown across a chair — her harp draped 
in one corner, her desk standing open, with an English 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


m 

primrose and cards of invitation for a Sunday evening 
stacked on it, an open letter or so — suspended from the 
old desk of mahogany and attached to a ribbon of light 
blue, edged with white, hung a beautiful antique badge 
of the Order of Cincinnatus. It was an American eagle 
in diamonds; the eagle held in its mouth a branch of 
laurel. On the reverse side in letters of gold were the 
words, ‘‘ Virtue et Lahore,'* This had been the property 
of her grandfather — an eminent Virginia judge in his day 
— who had also commanded a regiment of men in the War 
of 1812 — this was the badge of the order of heredity in 
the United States, instituted at the close of the Kevolu- 
tionary War and descending from son to son. Madam's 
gold-rimmed glasses shone near a pamphlet of the South- 
ern Veteran Association — her pencil marks were opposite 
some of the names. It was these trifling details that 
touched the heart of her son. Gone? Why had they 
condemned her for parting with a few old objects of 
value to none but herself — her own absolutely. She had 
preferred that to beggary, and their harsh judgment 
had tormented her because she chose now^ and again to 
assemble about her the few old friends she had liked best. 

'‘Boss," said Mrs. Horace Thornton, in a voice properly 
attuned, ‘ ‘ it 's all too sad for anything. Where is Mercy ? ' ' 


‘‘She has just left here.*' 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


m 


^‘1 am awfully sorry for you and Horace. No doubt 
your mother is better off. Horace was not at home — or 
we would have come at once. Did she make a will? 
She had a few things/’ looking around as she spoke, 
"'that old Empire ” 

"Annette,” said Koswell in cold disgust, "I cannot 
hear a word you say. ’ ’ 

She had drawn him aside to talk to him, but she now 
moved away. 

"You know the way as well as I do,” Horace was say- 
ing to Miss Jerusha Tabb, "the tedious trip by rail and 
after leaving the railway station and town, miles of 
rocky, rain-washed pike, probably buried in snow at this 
season.” 

"You forget,” argued his listener, "the overseer breed 
of men — who hung their socks out on Saturday to dry for 
Sunday — have money in their pockets. They could not 
buy you perhaps, but they could buy me— notebook and 
all. They keep those roads in first-class condition, 
winter and summer — the lands along the Carter’s Kun 
Valley are the best fertilized in the State. I know. I 
passed that way on my wheel in October last.” 

"In any case the less effort at display the better my 
mother would like it,” returned Horace sullenly. 

‘"And you know Horace has to meet all expenses,” 


278 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


whispered his wife, "‘Koswell is not equal to anything 
and I do not suppose she left a sou behind her. * " 

‘‘You deceive yourself,” said Miss Tabb, always will- 
ing to contradict or be aggressive when she was not to 
lose by it. “Eoswell Thornton bids fair to be the 
wealthier man of the two — beside Elizabeth left three 
hundred dollars in money to pay the expenses of this — 
affair. I know — one of her beautiful rings will go to the 
doctor, another to the landlady who nursed her, and the 
rest unconditionally to Mercy Thornton.” 

“Yes?” said Annette curiously. But no other word 
on the subject could be extracted from Miss Tabb. 

“Boss,” gently said Horace to his brother, a few 
moments later. He parted the portieres. Horace 
Thornton displayed the first sign of emotion that he had 
shown at all, as he stood beside Boswell in the ghost-like 
silence of his mother’s bedchamber. “She was a brave 
woman,” said he, as he brushed something like a tear 
from his cheek. Every particle of blood left his face, 
while his teeth chattered. Boswell stood there without 
a word, with dry, undimmed eyes. His breast rose and 
fell audibly. Suddenly he gave a sob and knelt down 
beside the white shadowed form — his head buried in the 
winding sheet. He was a boy again. Pictures of life 
in the old Virginia homestead where he ran and jumped 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


279 


and rode on wings of light — sunny days in the spring 
that glided by golden with sunshine, sweet with the 
concert of birds, merry with song and laughter, and the 
cheerful drone of bees, and the hum hum of the old 
plantation darkey hoeing in the garden when he hung 
around for bait — ‘mus think dis squar produce thou- 
sands o’ fishin’ wor-rums leetle Marse Boss’ — he could 
hear him now; hear all the sounds, see all the simple life 
of the joyous, high-spirited boy spread before him : the 
flowers and fruits of summer — the smell of the honey- 
suckle and new-mown hay, the beauty of the star-lit 
summer’s night — the click of the mill wheel, the splendor 
of the fall and winter’s morning — the rush of waters 
through the green-shaven meadows, the nuts, the rabbit- 
tracks on the fresh-fallen snow — all came back — the 
moon and the stars — the showers and dew — the hoar frost 
on hill and mountain — all the sights and scents and 
sounds that go to make up the birthright of happy boy- 
hood. And she, even in late years of changed estate, 
she had been the same. Always bright for him — always 
gay with welcome. Never had he known her strong, 
loyal heart to beat with ‘burning defiance to old age and 
fate. ’ Her eyes had met his fondly as he opened the 
doors of her rooms only a day or so ago ; even in the 
last tortured weeks she had faith in him, had jested 


280 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


with him of all their own little foibles and failures. She 
believed in better days to come. She had loved him with 
a great love, and had trusted all things to his honor. 
And he — had he neglected his dear old mother? The 
litanies asked for exemption from blindness of heart, 
but she was gone — gone to meet the fate of all earthly 
things. He had no words in which to make lamenta- 
tion. He knelt in the grim shadow of that solitary 
death-bed, and no word of contrition or regret escaped 
him. He shuddered as he rose to his feet. 

‘‘She looks natural,” said Horace, as he led the way 
from the room. 

“Mr. Thornton,” said the colonel, as he appeared, one 
eye upon Horace, the other made-to-order eye — on Kos- 
well, “have the arrangements been made?” 

Eoswell had taken his stand under the shadow of the 
portrait of his grandfather in hunting dress and spurs — 
his features had the same haughty cast of countenance at 
that moment. 

“Madam Thornton will be laid to rest in the old Vir- 
ginia burial ground — at Thornleigh,” said her son 
Horace, “such was her wish.” 

“I pity poor Elizabeth,” said Miss Tabb, under her 
^r§ath to the colondi She cleared her throat, Sho was 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


281 


on the anxious bench, apparently wished to know if free 
transportation was to be expected. 

‘"H-m — I was not sure burial rites had been reserved. 
But you can understand, prompted by affection, we wish 
to pay the last tribute to the memory of Elizabeth — if it 
can be managed. 

‘^What has this man to do with my mother’s memory?” 
would have been a natural question from Horace at an- 
other time, but he answered, not ungraciously, ^^You 
can have Annette’s ticket — a country graveyard is no 
place for her neuralgia,” but, noting her blank expres- 
sion, ^^Oh, you want tw^o passes? Well, I have not two 
tickets about me to spare, unless,” diving into his pocket 
and bringing forth a couple of theater tickets, ‘Hhese will 
do as well, better I dare say. Go and see Madam Sans 
Gene.” 

"‘My God!” cried Miss Jerusha breaking down utterly 
at the harshness of his words, “Whether I go or stay I 
can neither write nor see — I see nothing but her — my 
poor friend. ” Tears gushed from her hard eyes. The 
colonel turned aside. Every one present was affected by 
the sudden outburst of Miss Jerusha Tabb. Thus it was 
not Miss Thurston, or little Miss Betty Summers, or the 
long-winded poet, or even Cousin Billy, who lamented 
Madam Thornton in the face of the world — they were 


282 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


each absorbed in other concerns, but it was the sour, 
disappointed, hard-working woman distracted by grief. 

The world is full of surprises. Have you ever left a 
place or people and found there was neither sadness nor 
wailing on the part of some whom you had expected to 
regret your departure, and that some whom you had 
never dreamed would give you a passing thought were 
sad and loth to have you go? 

Once I heard a great divine say in the church of God 
that when we get to heaven, if we do, we may not meet 
those we have expected to see, but many whom we have 
not expected to find there. Heaven will be full of sur- 
prises. 

‘'Horace,” said Koswell, a moment later, “may I use 
your brougham a second?” 

“Certainly,” assented Mrs. Horace Thornton, instantly 
curious. 

“He looks ill,” said his brother, as he passed out. 
“I cannot bear to see him like that. His lungs were 
never strong. 

Mr. Horace Thornton’s carriage stood before the door. 
The footman recognized Mr. Koswell Thornton and 
lifted his hat. “Drive, ” said he, “to the corner of I Street 
and — and let me out. ’ ’ The man mounted the box and 
gave the order. When Roswell had alighted and walked 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


283 


a few paces, he stood in front of the door of Mrs. Eose- 
Eodney. He deliberated. He felt himself to be the 
most wretched and humiliated man on God’s earth. He 
was sick of sight and sound. The glare of the electric 
lamps made him faint. In times past, when troubles 
seized him, he could fling himself under a sheltering oak 
in the corner of some quiet meadow, or bury himself in 
the heart of the woods and fight out his battle — or he 
could mount Defender and ride furiously away from the 
haunts of men until, spent and exhausted, his pain was 
numbed; but now — broken, powerless, wretched — what 
was to become of him? 

Mrs. Eose-Eodney had dined. Indeed she was ready 
for travel. The hall was full of trunks and packing 
cases. The room in which she sat had the empty, 
denuded look of a ‘^furnished house” which has been 
divested of the homelike and ornamental objects that an 
individual occupant invariably imparts to it. She was 
wearing a tailor-made traveling gown. The room was 
fragrant with flowers. She started to her feet as Eoswell 
Thornton came in. 

‘‘Well,” said she, *^yo\i have taken your own time.” 

The first glance at his face, however, told her that he 
was under the influence of strong emotion. This was 
the last thing she desired, unless he was moved to it by 


284 


A CONSUL TO CHINA* 


herself. For a moment she regarded him mutely as he 
stood on the hearth rug, hat in hand. All sorts of mis- 
givings flashed through her mind — he had broken with 
his wife — he had come to say good-by to her. She was 
near the truth in both instances. 

^'What has happened?” asked she. 

‘‘Everything. I will tell you presently. Give me a 
glass of wine. ” 

“Brandy will be better.” She passed into the next 
room, and was some little time pouring the liquid from 
the decanter. She was not a woman to lose her head. 
With an untrembling hand she offered it to him. He 
drank it down, without looking at it, and for some time 
neither spoke. 

“My coming here at the eleventh hour,” said he at 
last, “means everything and it means nothing. It means 
I must say good-by to you Adele — my mother is dead — 
my wife has thrown me off. I am going out of the coun- 
try at once. ’ ’ 

She came very near. “Tour mother dead?” asked 
she. “Oh ” 

“Do not speak of it.” 

“You have suffered. Rest now — we can take the mid- 


night train.” 


A CONSUL TO CNINA. 


285 


"'Adele,” said be harshly, '"of what are you 
thinking?” 

‘‘We will talk it over presently.” She stood behind 
his chair, stroking his forehead and hair with slow, 
caressing fingers, that now and again pressed his eye- 
lids down. “What did your wife suspect?” 

“She suspected nothing. She knew all there was to 
know. She was outraged and threw me ofif. ” 

“She ignored my existence I suppose?” 

“I suppose so. ” 

‘Wonderfully magnanimous, considering she has a 
grudge against me.” 

“What?” 

“It’s no use to repeat ancient history.” 

“What happened?” asked he hoarsely. “That was 
very strong brandy you gave me — it leaves a bad taste in 
the mouth. Where are your cigarettes?” She lighted 
two, placing one between her own teeth. 

“It was a misunderstanding — in Paris,” affirmed she 
later — “a man she loved.” 

“No,” said he, “my wife does not love me, but she 
never loved any other man.” 

“Can you be certain? What of her life in Paris?” 

“She went abroad with her father when her brother 


Basil Lloyd was in trouble, ’ ’ 


286 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘'And stayed — because?"’ 

“Because — Adele, you cannot deceive me — you gave 
them trouble.” 

“That might have been. Certainly she could not win 
the affection of the man she loved away from me. " * 

“You were never rivals/" said he, “tell the gospel 
truth."" 

“I have told you gospel truth."" 

“Is it not a — parable?"" 

“There are no ethics such as the ethics of the Bible,"" 
said she, “parables proclaim the truth."" 

“Or disguise it,"" said he drowsily. 

She continued to talk in this strain — to insinuate 
without accusation — to suggest without committing her- 
self — to tantalize by half-dropped words and sentences, 
keeping the full meaning safely back, in order to con- 
trovert if attacked. As a skillful general she judiciously 
discriminated, shifting the subject the instant she found 
he was puzzled or exasperated. But, if the truth had 
been known, she was gradually losing ground. 

“But why do we speak of these things now? Think 
of other things. Your mother is dead — your wife has 
cast you off, but I am true. Best and collect yourself. 
At a quarter past twelve we will leave the city. I will 
order the carriage now."" She waited for him to speak. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


28 ? 


however. He did not speak, and she left the room. It 
was a hackneyed sentence, whirled after a half-smoked 
cigarette as she left the room. ‘^Let Fate do her worst,” 
said he, stirring as a man who begins to feel his senses 
succumb to wine. 

In spite of assumed indifference he was deeply 
troubled. He tried to foresee the issue, and at the same 
time strove to put it from him with a firm hand. In his 
present state of languor and desperate exhaustion he 
could form no idea of what his intentions either were or 
had been. He was not a wicked man — only weak of 
fiber. Presently he ceased to regret anything. If Mercy 
chose to apply for a legal separation from him she could 
do so. And then, as one thought led on to another, he 
grew tender with recollection. Never had his wife 
appealed to both mind and sense as she had done to-day 
— the pale, exquisite face, the figure with its natural 
pride of bearing, were before his eyes. 

As he lay back in an armchair, the gaslight falling 
softly on his tired, worn, but beautiful Southern face — 
resting the warm hues of chestnut hair on the satin 
damask, he was consumed by regret, by desire, by re- 
morse. Some day perhaps the whole story would be 
flaunted in the newspapers, and Mercy would blush with 
shame. He stirred. Well, she had thrust him from 


m 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


her. He had not troubled himself much about the future 
lately, why should he bother about that now? He 
lighted another cigarette, his hand trembling, his knees 
shaking beneath him. A clock in a room beyond chimed 
half-past eleven. Presently Mrs. Kose-Rodney came 
back, and again stood behind his chair, smoothing his 
brow, pressing the tired eyelids down. 

‘‘Look at that,” said he spreading his hand out upon 
his knee. Both hand and knee shook. 

“You need more brandy,” said she. 

“Not another drop,” said he, pushing her hands away 
from his face, “what you gave me was too strong.” 

“You were exhausted — and asked for it.” 

“It is surging through me in burning waves — there 
are a million red-hot needles in my brain,” said Roswell 
Thornton. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


289 


CHAPTEE XIV. 

In the library of the flat occupied by the Boswell 
Thorntons the shadows were lying dusky and deep. 
Mercy Thornton sat quite still a long time after her hus- 
band left her. She got up wearily at last, and took some 
things from the wardrobe and folded them. She dragged 
stealthily to avoid attracting the attention of the servant, 
a large leather trunk from the entry. She went from 
place to place, from room to room, as she thought of this 
or that — silently. On the toilet table sparkled silver 
and crystal, some jewels in dark cases of velvet, all the 
array and confusion of costly and pretty things that a 
girl who has been a favorite in her circle receives to 
mark her wedding day, no matter what her income is to 
be from that day on. 

She was interrupted by Jemima, who came to announce 
dinner. 

‘‘I do not want a thing, Mima,” said she. 

""Ain’t Mane Eoss cornin’?” inquired Jemima, glanc- 
ing at the empty trunks and gowns strewn over the 


290 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


chairs and bed, and feeling at once that there was some- 
thing amiss. 

‘‘Did I not tell you, Mima? His mother died this 
afternoon.” 

“Oh, Miss Marcy!” cried the shocked domestic, “died 
— an’ yo’ neber tell me?” 

“I have been so occupied. Would you like to go 
there now? Your master will be there I think.” 

“I mus’ go chile — onless yo’ is feered ter stay here by 
yo’sef.” 

“What can make me afraid?” 

“Dar sutinly is sech things es ha’nts an’ sperrits er 
walkin’. Miss Marcy — de sperrit o’ de Lawd appeer to 
his dusciples — but I ain’t afeered o’ Miss ’Lizbeth’s 
sperrit — onless yo’ is, honey. ” 

“I am not afraid. Be back by eleven o’clock promptly 
if you can. I will need you then. And, Mima” — call- 
ing softly after her, “papa and Miss Honora Thurston 
have been married, you know, and are going abroad. I 
may go with them for awhile — but don’t mention this. 
Changes always come together.” 

“My bressed stars!” exclaimed the astonished Jemima, 
“dat red moon wuzn’t er shinin’ fer nothin’.” 

The moment the servant let her, Mercy rose and wrote 
a note, and then looked at her own white face in the 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


291 


glass. Had her woman read its story? Was it all 
plainly written in the dejection of her face and figure? 

wonder if this is what we come to sooner or later?” 
she thought, ‘"I see many women whose faces bear traces 
of suffering. Never by word or sign should I make 
known how faith and love have been uprooted. Perhaps 
this comes to women and they never speak. Perhaps 
some who look and seem happy have had some such ex- 
perience, and have borne and lived it down.” But, 
could she put it from her? Could she fly from memory, 
and all its grace and glamour? She might put from her 
the sight of one face, the sound of one voice, but the 
need of both she could not put from her. 

Nothing broke the stillness. Mercy lighted another 
lamp and gathered together fragments of paper from her 
desk, tossing them into the fire. Here and there she 
selected a book, a picture or some trifle of no importance 
to any but herself. Some manuscripts had to be packed. 
A pang shot through her as she thought of her work, and 
how he was identified with every page that grew beneath 
her hand. How was she to go on? The torpid vacancy 
of her mind, bereft of inspiration, all passion, all crea- 
tive faculty appalled her. She could foresee no return of 
these, and was grimly reminded of a story by Julian 
Hawthorne where he met the specter of Edgar Allan Poe 


292 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


in a New York restaurant, finding the gifted man the 
same in outward appearance but inwardly deprived of 
every inspiration and aspiration. Every desire of her 
heart was stagnated by the weight of the present. She 
was conscious that if absorption had been a necessity at 
times, an alleviation, it would be doubly so now. She 
must work. She was obliged to obliterate her past. All 
her time, her heart, her intellect, her energies should be 
concentrated upon one object in life — to forget. 

There was to be no farewell between them, that was 
certain — no more bitter words. But, even as she put 
these questions to herself, the promise she had made his 
mother forced its way. She had pledged herself in the 
presence of death. She finished packing, locked and 
strapped the trunks with hands that were white and soft 
but strong, well-shaped and womanly. She filled a small 
hand satchel with odds and ends, placing in a compart- 
ment, easy of access, the letter she had received from 
Miss Thurston — now Mrs. Dr. Lloyd — that morning. 
Could it be that morning? She was learning that 
years that scathe and scorch can be lived in so many 
throbs of the heart. She rang for a servant and ordered 
a carriage for eleven o’clock — a wagon to be sent at once 
for trunks to be taken to the Sixth Street depot. Then 
she waited for Jemima — and as she waited, her eye fell- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


293 


upon the mute old violin lying in its case beside her 
piano. Suddenly it seemed to sing. In an instant she 
was on her knees, holding the instrument in her hands, 
close to her aching heart. Tears that had refused to 
flow, streamed from her eyes. "^Oh, Jacqueline,’’ she 
cried, ^‘Jacqueline — our dear old days together are gone 
— gone — with mother, brother, husband — all gone.” 

Presently Jemima came, dejectedly, subdued by grief 
for Miss ’Lizbeth — scenting disaster in the air. An 
ashen pallor had settled over the black skin of her face. 

“Now mind what I have to say, Mima. We have not 
a moment to spare — and much depends on you. To- 
morrow, before any one is up, take this note and put it 
in the hands of Mr. Horace Thornton — no one else, 
mind. See where I place it for you ? When the carriage 
comes be ready to go with me to the depot. You must 
stay by me until I meet my father and his wife. I shall 
direct the coachman to bring you home afterward. Stay 
and take care of everything as usual — no matter how 
long your master is away. He will go to Virginia with 
his mother. Did you see him, Mima?” 

“No, no,” said the stricken woman, shaking her head, 
“Mr. Horace an’ his wife wuz dar, an’ some oder strange 
folks, but no Marse Boss. Miss Jerushy, she wuz de 
mistis 0* ceremony, an’ she sarnt me in,” 


294 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


"‘Another thing, Mima,’* said Mercy, “if I should 
stop at the house of a friend on my way to the train, 
you stay in the carriage — you understand?” 

“Cose, Miss Marcy, but how yo’ do look an’ talk to- 
night — honey yo’ ain’t de fresh apple blossom yo’ wuz 
when I cum here — is it anything wrong chile concernin’ 
dem telegrofs? Surely yo’ es cornin’ back ter poor leetle 
Marse Eoss an’ me?” Then, genuinely upset and dis- 
tressed she wept aloud. But the carriage was announced 
at this j uncture, and spared her mistress the pain of 
either a truthful or an evasive answer. 

Mercy knew the number and location of the house 
occupied by Mrs. Eose-Eodney. As she was driven in 
its direction, the cool, crisp air of night chilled by the 
snow, fanned her cheek. The noise of rolling vehicles 
echoed far and near. When she reached the house, a 
closed carriage stood before the door. The driver on 
the box was dozing, and had to be aroused before she 
could reach the curbstone. She went up the stone flight, 
leaving the perplexed maid behind, and gave a touch to 
the bell. A man in livery softly opened the door. 

“Is Mrs. Eose-Eodney at home?” asked she. 

He said he would see, but feared she was engaged, 

“Is Mr. Thornton here?” 


He could not be sure. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


295 


‘‘This is Mrs. Eoswell Thornton/’ said she, gliding 
past, “admit me — open that door.” The man obeyed 
without further hesitation, having heard something of 
the illness of the old madam — Mr. Thornton was no 
doubt required. 

As he threw open the doors of the drawing-room, 
Mercy entered. At first she could make nothing out of 
the haze and fog of tobacco smoke, in a smaller room 
beyond, as she crossed the larger room. Then she 
descried two figures, not seated side by side, as on one 
former occasion, but as through a veil of gauze — the 
figure of a man with a white, blanched face, lay stretched 
on a parlor couch — a woman in a traveling-dress sat at 
the side of the sofa. A startled exclamation broke from 
Mrs. Kose-Kodney as she saw who it was advanced 
toward them. She had heard the bell — her senses alive 
to all sound — and, although her orders had been strict, 
people were at times incorrigible, inventing excuses — 
she had no desire for any of the men or women who 
came to her house out of hours to see or be seen by Mr. 
Eoswell Thornton. She was totally unprepared for this 
advent. She rose to her feet. Her companion did not 
stir, until she touched him, when he struggled into posi- 
tion. After the first expression of surprise Mrs. Eose- 
Eodney stood in silence. The figure of Eoswell Thorn- 


'296 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


ton was drawn up — if with difficulty — to its full six feet 
— his arms were folded across his chest. 

‘'Do not be alarmed,” said Mercy coldly, “I have not 
come to stay. ” 

The countenance of Mrs. Eose-Eodney was a rage 
and study. “Perhaps you may be kind enough to say 
for what you have come?” inquired she insolently. 

“Strange as it may seem, there is a matter requiring 
our mutual attention. In the first place,” turning to 
her husband, yet seeming to see him not, “I wish to 
give you this letter, ” handing him the epistle from her 
stepmother, “pray read it at your leisure.” He took 
the letter mechanically and put it in his pocket. 

“I am afraid you have chosen a rather late hour for 
your interview,” said Mrs. Eose-Eodney with a 
sneer. 

Mercy chose to interpret her literally. “The hour is of 
small consequence in this case,” said she, a flash gather- 
ing in her eyes. 

“We leave on the midnight train,” said the defiant 
woman. 

“And I leave on the midnight train.” 

“A year or so ago, I should have said you were on 
your way to Eussia — to open the blind eyes of the czar.” 

“I hope to open the blind eyes of another man before 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


297 


I go/’ said Mercy as coolly. ""We will not bandy words 
Adele de Cherville. Do you dream what I am here to 
tell you? For the second time in my life you have 
crossed my path, and brought disgrace in your train. 
Years ago you stole the happiness and honor of my 
brother Basil — now you plot to rob me of my own.” 
Mercy’s voice had the pitch and ring of intense passion. 
Boswell moved uneasily. 

""Since plain speaking is the order of the hour, per- 
haps I may remind Mrs. Thornton that I fail to appre- 
ciate these interesting episodes,” said Adele. Boswell 
strove to maintain his dignity, but Mercy paid no 
attention to him whatever. 

""You must recollect how you lured Basil Lloyd’s faith 
away from the sister of this man, Yiolet Thornton, to 
whom he was betrothed. Her dying mother talked of 
her to-day. You broke the heart of Violet — but not 
satisfied, you led him on and on, until you had him 
murdered.” 

Mrs. Bose-Bodney did not reply at once. She shiv- 
ered before she replied at all: ""I do not know that I 
am accountable to you for my actions either past or 
present,” she at length said dryly, ""but since you are 
so evidently mistaken, I will tell you what every sane 
person knows. I did not murder the poor artist, Basil 


298 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


Blake Lloyd. I pitied him, I confess — poor, young, 
handsome and forlorn 

"‘Poor!” the eyes of Mercy flashed, “he had love, 
birth, position, reputation — your class decry these. He 
had distinction until you robbed him of all. But you 
shall not make this man your tool, as you did Basil — 
your dupe, as you did your husband. She turned to 
Boswell Thornton, who sat a limp mass of flesh with 
averted face. 

“I have no desire to be melodramatic. I am not on 
my way to an Oklahoma divorce colony, but I do not 
want 3"OU to make a sorry choice. I shall verify my 
allegiance to the best friend I ever had — your mother — 
by proving to you that she — this woman — is not worthy. ” 

The face of Mrs. Bose-Kodney became purple wdth 
rage. “And what,” asked she, “if he declines to listen?” 

“In that case,” said Mercy calmly, “I will compel his 
attention through a higher court.” 

“I forbid you to open your lips about me further, ” 
cried the now exasperated woman. “If you do, I will 
strike him dead!” The pupils of her eyes dilated with 
fury. A tigerish, gray-green gleam of fire flashed from 
their depths as might lightning from a clear sky. 

“Lower your voice,” said Mercy, and for the first 
time, as she spoke, the young wife realized the complete 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


299 


mental and physical collapse of Koswell Thornton — the 
blank eyes, the dazed, helpless droop of the whole man. 
‘"I had rather see him dead than — like this.’’ 

But Koswell, if like a man in a stupor, had understood 
that Adele had not denied a single charge. Instead of 
refutation, every evil passion that can lurk beneath a 
painted skin in the cruel face of the woman had leaped 
into life. The veil was torn into shreds — it was to be 
seen where her brightness had been feigned — her good 
nature superficial, her refinement assumed, her heart as 
steel. 

“I am sure,” said Mercy tranquilly, after the tempest 
had passed, "'that Mrs. Rose-Kodney will think better of 
exposure and accede to anything I propose?” 

“What do you mean?” asked she in a hard voice, and 
after a forced silence, “you are stark, staring mad, I 
think.” 

“I mean,” said the wife of Roswell Thornton, extricat- 
ing a paper from the bag she carried and holding it 
between her fingers, “you may possibly recognize this 
signature. I was sent for to receive the dying statement 
of Edgar Rose-Rodney in the Hospital de Paris. You 
remember he asked to be carried there? He had put a 
pistol shot through the heart of my brother — after Basil 
had wounded him— both were mad, I think. I heard 


soo 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


the dying confession of your husband. It is here, in my 
hands, duly dated and signed — the statement he made 
on his deathbed in the presence of witnesses. I say’’ — 
as she folded the paper — "^do not cringe” — she came a 
step nearer to the cowering woman, ‘^you must remem- 
ber a certain night in August, a night that both men 
were in your box at the play? You grew tired of the 
man who loved you, and had given to you his name, his 
wealth and power. You thought to rid yourself of a tie 
that restrained. What did you put in the glass of 
whiskey you gave him that night? You are not capable 
of an answer, it seems. I will tell you, here in the pres- 
ence of Koswell Thornton, you gave him — arsenic.” 
The voice and manner of the speaker were accusers, had 
her words been less acute. ''You hoped to end his life, 
but your scheme failed. His physician was a man of 
sense, who had known and attended him, and under- 
stood the temperament of the man w^ho was wise and 
brave enough to bring the first symptoms to him. When 
your husband gave me this, he said it was the only 
reparation he could make — a bequest of vengeance. Do 
you think I should ever have used it against you, had 
you left my peace unbroken ? And now shall this story 
see the light of day?” 

Adele Rose-Kodney had moved in bitter menace — had 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


301 


been defiant, furious, bad cowered, now she blanched 
and shook and shrank. Wrath and horror blazed in the 
face of Koswell Thornton. He had retreated from her, 
and stood supporting his inert body against a tall chair, 
his bloodshot eyes staring wide. 

might spare you further detail,’’ said Mercy, 
speaking to him as to a stranger, ‘‘I might spare her, 
but it is better you should know all I know. Ask her, 
let her tell 3"ou, who it was dogged the footsteps of 3"Our 
father in San Francisco, day by day begging money, 
and one day, when wearied with repeated scenes, IVIr. 
Thornton denied him assistance — he was shot down by 
whom ? She cannot tell you, but it was Jean de Cher- 
ville, her father, that murdered your father in the streets 
of San Francisco — and fled.” 

The woman, with an expression of deadly hatred, 
reeled and sank into a chair. Her breath came short 
and quick. It was the exact position occupied when 
Eoswell Thornton made her the first visit months ago — 
the shreds of golden hair, the rings on her fingers shone 
in the vaporous atmosphere. Both face and figure w^ere 
distorted beyond recognition — a wild fury shook and 
inflamed both. 

With an aching head and a heart that sank within 
him, Boswell Thornton sa\v his wife move onward to the 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


302 

door. Before her he had thrown out his arms, all his 
love for her awake in his heart. ‘"Mercy,” cried he 
faintly, “Mercy hear me.” He could not reach her, ho 
could not clasp her in his arms — all power to move had 
deserted him. “Mercy,” he plead “for God’s sake hear 
me,” but his passionate, broken call was unheard or 
unheeded. He staggered back and fell prostrate his 
whole length on the floor. 

Adele Kose-Kodney had sprung into furious life, as 
she saw the wife of Boswell Thornton leave the room 
with head upraised. Fiercely she strode after her, dashed 
to the other end of the apartment with the fierce stride of 
a mad woman: “Take him,” she cried, bitterly resent- 
ful, “take your weak kneed. Latter Day Saint with you!” 

"When Mercy closed that door and passed out, every 
nerve was alert. A glow of exultation on her face, the 
light of an angel of purity. “They cannot wreck my 
life utterly,” she thought. “In Saxony I will live and 
execute as I never could have done under the old, false 
conditions.” It might pass, but for the moment she 
was lifted up above pain. Her veins tingled with 
ecstasy. Behind her was the past. Before her the great 
new world. The white glory of the night hung close 
about the sleeping city as she passed onward, with new 
emotions, new hopes stirring in her heart. Jemima was 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


303 


fast asleep. She did not disturb her when she reached 
the depot. She gave orders quietly to the man on the 
box. He gathered up the reins and the solitary carriage 
rolled back on its way over the smooth white pavements 
of asphalt, bordered by walls of snow. 

"When the fierceness of Adele Eose-Rodney’s wrath 
subsided, a sentiment approaching pity for the man who 
lay unconscious at her feet took its place. She knew 
that love, devotion — two things that she came to prize late 
in life — could never be given her by him — after this. With 
all her scheming it had been better had his first and last 
caress come to her beneath the far-away dripping trees 
of Greenway Court. She had loved, did love him with 
a passion but half comprehended by herself; but no 
explanation, repentance, promise, could ever make him 
hers. If he had understood dully, he had understood. 
That was enough. Between he and she was a barrier 
that no modern science could bridge. 

She stood above him, ^^You have heard the truth,” 
said she hoarsely — the draperies on her breast rising and 
falling, the breath puffing from her dilated nostrils, ‘^not 
only did my father murder yours, but I am a fiend. It 
was my curse to love you — to murder my husband — for 
that it was eventually. There is a child in Paris, in the 
convent where I was educated. I cannot have her near 


304 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


me. I cannot stand the reproach of her innocence — the 
look of her father’s eyes. Heayen knows what evil fate 
brought me here — but when I sought your mother out 
and heard her talk of prospects — I stayed — and — and I 
hoped to kindle the light in your eyes once more. \Vhat 
is to become of me heaven only knows. I cannot rub 
my conscience and try again. It is worn out. I am a 
pauper, a swindler, a thief. When I go back to New 
York I shall now and again occupy a handsome suite, 
take an airing in Central Park, but my life for the most 
part will be spent in a tenement — fifth floor back. You, 
with your pride of race, your grand Southern ideas, have 
heard of such places? Is it wonderful that I should 
strive to escape the barrenness and filth and meanness of 
it all? You have seen a wavering candle-fly beat its 
wings against the charnel house that was to be the 
scene of its consumption?” 

Much longer perhaps, she would have gone on, ranting 
in the same strain, had she not observed that he was 
wholly lost to her words — to her presence. She drooped 
slowly upon her knees, shuddering, her teeth chattering. 
‘‘Koss,” called she gently, as she shook him once or 
twice, ‘‘wake — do not go to sleep here.” But he lay 
still, his eyes closed, his lips apart, showing slightly the 
white teeth between. He did not stir. Her hand crept 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


305 


to his wrist, to his heart, yes there was life still. ‘‘I 
have not killed you,” said she in a low, alarmed voice — 
but his hand fell heavily away from hers, and staring, 
her face grew appalled, awful. She writhed and 
crouched lower still. ‘'1 was born to bring trouble,” 
said she, ‘"but Boss you were always skeptical. I have 
not killed you,” as a mother might appeal to her dying 
child. As she knelt beside him noting the white misery 
of his face, she absently picked up the watch of gold 
that had fallen from his pocket. As absently, she turned 
it in her hand — one side bore the Thornton crest, on the 
other were the Latin words, “malo, mori quam far dari/* 
she drew back, ‘‘malo, mori quam far dari/' she re- 
peated, carefully replacing the watch in his pocket. 
Again she shook him gently. But rigid and stiff he 
moved not. Then she sprang to her feet. She clutched 
at her bosom, her head, her hair — tore the dress open at 
her throat — still he lay there motionless, still he moved 
not, but seemed in his strange, helpless way to mock her 
words. She cried aloud to man, to God, to the whole 
world, but he moved not. Striding from side to side, 
she pressed her hands upon her burning eyeballs. For 
a moment she wavered undecided as to what to do. She 
had not killed him, but the situation, the evidence, the 
complications, staring her in the face, should the result 


306 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


be — bad. She crossed to a table and wrote a few lines 
upon a piece of paper: ^‘Mr. Thornton w^as taken ill at 
the house of a friend, who w^as obliged to leave the city. 
He had better be put to bed. ” She started to add, ‘^and 
a doctor called,’’ but erased the last, and rising sent a 
clashing peal of the bell through the silent house. 

‘"Tell my women,” said she, to the man who appeared, 
“to be in readiness to start to New York at once. I 
must be there by twelve o’clock to-morrow,” and with- 
out a tremor of the voice, she went on rapidly in French, 
as the man’s eyes in spite of himself rested upon the 
figure of the man outstretched. 

“It is the cataleptic state. Mr. Thornton has always 
resisted, but weak and distressed to-night, he has been 
overcome — without desiring it. You must take him, 
with this note to his lodgings. Call the men from the 
carriage to help you. ’ ’ 

She stood by and saw her orders carried out — saw him 
lifted into the carriage by two men who supported his 
apparently lifeless figure, over which a greatcoat was 
thrown. The footman held in his hand the hat and 
gloves of Mr. Koswell Thornton. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


307 


CHAPTER XV. 

Mr. Horace Thornton awaited the appearance of his 
brother Roswell with admirable patience on the morn- 
ing following, but he was almost frenzied when handed a 
note by the bedazed and belated Jemima, and had 
mastered the contents which ran : 

‘"Mrs. Rose-Rodney and Madam Mclntire, the phreno- 
logist and hypnotist are one and the same person. You 
remember the sensation created about ten days ago when 
she put in a hypnotic trance for four days the young 
man whom many went to see asleep — the drug store of 
G. and H. 

‘‘A word to the wise.” 

^^M. W. T.” 

Horrified, Horace Thornton rushed off at once. He 
found his brother lying in his bed, listless and white, 
prostrated, in a half-stupor. He at once had the physi- 
cian of the family summoned, who encouraged him to 
believe that with care — which he proposed to extend — . 
Roswell would in a few days come round all right. 

‘‘That poor boy,” Horace thought, as he left him to 


308 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


make some final arrangements for the funeral of Madam 
Thornton, '‘in his state that fiend might have been the 
death of him.’' He resolved that the town should be 
too small to hold Madam Mclntire when he came back. 

The coffin which enclosed all that was mortal of the 
late Madam Thornton, had left the old mansion of gray- 
stone on F Street loaded with beautiful flowers — roses 
at the foot, and violets at the head — with long floating 
ribbons of white and purple satin. A long line of car- 
riages, reasonably crowded with sympathetic persons, 
had followed the hearse to the Potomac depot. But the 
hours of managment and supervision for the burial serv- 
ice were of much trial to her son Horace. He was not 
used to this sort of thing. He -was wretched over Eos- 
well, whom he had left upon a sick-bed — unhappy, and 
in a measure remorseful about his mother, whose loss he 
now lamented. In fact, Mr. Horace Thornton was out 
of joint and out of place altogether. There had been a 
brief service in the church of the Virginia village, largely 
attended by all the people of the country who knew or 
had known of Thornleigh, or of madam and her sons in 
other days. To people who live isolated lives the old 
institutions are not only tenacious of life but the occa- 
sion for their usage is easily widespread. Many deep 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


309 


down in the country, many who had known and loved 
Madam Thornton in days gone by, even people among 
the plainer classes, were eager to do her homage, now 
that she was no more — to sound the praises of her who 
had ‘‘fulfilled his word. Thus there was a long cortege 
of men and women and children, moving tediously 
toward the old burial ground, unimpeded by the snow 
which had rapidly vanished, for there is a beautiful old 

Southern custom that still prevails in the town of W 

in Virginia — at the death of one of its community, every 
private carriage is placed at the service of friends of the 
dead. So to-day a perfect concourse of people in car- 
riages, in wagons, on horseback, and on foot — another 
brief service at the grave, a requiem hymn, “dust to 
dust,’* and all was over. 

So soon as the people were well away from the grave- 
yard — a neglected spot, where the tombstone of one 
ancestor tumbled upon the last resting place of another 
— where other tombs lay shattered distances away — 
overrun by dry stubble, and broom sedge, with falling 
walls in some places crumbling apart in gaps sujfficient 
to admit roving cattle or prowling pigs — in fact the 
usual desolate, God-forsaken country graveyard that has 
passed with the lands into the hands of disinterested 
strangers. 


310 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


As soon as the crowd were well away Horace Thornton 
allowed himself to drift about the old home of his boy- 
hood. Free from the scrutinizing eyes of others he felt 
a desire to potter about. He had fixed long and ardent 
looks of admiration upon the sloping meadows and hand- 
some belts of wood. The old mansion house, Thornleigh, 
appeared less cheerful than as he remembered it. A cer- 
tain gloom had settled down upon it. Some of the 
splendid oaks and elms on the lawn had been sacrificed 
to the whim of the modern improver — some lay where 
they had fallen, uprooted by passing storms. Otherwise 
perfect thrift and order prevailed. These old monarchs 
and the burial grounds were the only evidences of 
neglect. A high fence of plank had been constructed, 
giving a cramped effect to the whole. Some of the out- 
buildings of stone had give place to tidy, modern affairs. 
In many places the sward was patched with hencoops 
or rows of startling stalks, flowers he supposed in sum- 
mer. A paling fence had succeeded the beautiful hedge 
of arbor vitae that had surrounded the lawn — the old 
hedge that had been twelve feet high and four feet 
through and as smooth on top as a bank of turf. His 
mothel’ had taken pride in it and in the stately oaks and 
elms. Under a certain window had bloomed her bed of 


roses. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


311 


Horace Thornton was not inclined to sentiment. But 
to a man shut up in the city for years behind books and 
ledgers, his passage along the beautiful Carter’s Run 
Valley that day had been a revelation. All the stretch 
of fair meadows, all the hills and dales and light and 
shade and woodland, and even the gloomy old mansion 
had broken upon him with a vivid peaceful attractive- 
ness. For the first time in the course of his life he felt 
inspired by the desire, inherent in most of us, to own in 
his own right the home of his ancestors. What had he 
been thinking of all these years as he cast about for this 
or that investment? W^hat simpler than to have pur- 
chased Thornleigh, to have bought it in, and reinstated 
his mother there ? What a spot for rest and recreation 
in the heated terms — a land flowing wdth milk and honey 
— capable of bringing forth miles upon miles of golden 
wheat — acre after acre of strong, green corn. Annette 
would not have cared for it of course, but equally of 
course he would — and Ross — would have been the very 
man for the place — a gentleman farmer — his heart and 
health both strengthened. Mercy would have been 
happy there. Such thoughts as these, the beauty and 
fertility of the fair country where he was born stirred 
within the practical soul of Horace Thornton, as he 
stumbled from point to place. He had not cared for 


312 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


such things, but to-day some surprise or pleasure in 
nature or human thing met him by the way at every 
turn — a blade or two of belated grass, a bird, a child, a 
man or woman he had known. He had been gaining 
flesh rapidly of late years, but he still prided himself 
upon the athletic spring of the limbs that carried him 
safely over a high rail fence in search of the old cricket 
ground back of the orchard. Here he came to a full 
stop. Under the bare branches of an . oak tree, through 
which the winter sun poured, stood a rude easel, under 
another tree rested a Monarch wheel. The day had a 
touch of balmy softness — not often bestowed by Decem- 
ber — just the day madam would have chosen to start on 
her long journey — even to see Him who ^'hath given 
them a law which shall not be broken’’ — a light mist of 
purple hung over the mountains in the distance, giving 
them the aspect, the enchanting look of the deep blue 
sea, or another country rising beyond — sea, to those who 
love the sea, land, to those who love it best. The purple 
haze deepened the blue into amethyst and painted the 
blue mountains encircled by a halo. The picture sup- 
ported on the easel was not large, it w'as a mere canvas 
stretch, suggestive of much, but it had the old Blue 
Mountains in it. The artist w^ho was not young, yet 
hardly old, had a rapt, intellectual face, and sat motion- 


A CONSUL TO CHINA* 


313 


less at the time, regarding his work, perhaps deliberat- 
* ing upon its motif, apart from any financial success. 

‘"Catch your death here?'’ asked Mr. Thornton 
abruptly, as he came within earshot. “I hope you did 
not see me lose my balance — a few loose stones about, I 
should say. ’ ’ 

The artist had not started, but he looked up a little 
startled, a dark red flush coming into his face at this 
interruption of his privacy. He gathered up his brushes 
and began work with a recklessness and dash that threat- 
ened to destroy rather than complete the picture. It 
was a lovely scene that grew beneath his touch — quiet 
skies and foliage rich with the tints of autumn — the 
droop of one mountain range over the shoulder of an- 
other — the play of sunshine and shadow — of sweetness 
and decay, the ravishing glow of the sun as it set, illum- 
inating two human figures lent to the attitude of both 
the man and woman a charm of exceeding grace and 
beauty. 

“I’m well protected,” said the painter in his own 
time, as he significantly touched the outfit of rubber 
about the lower limbs — “it’s a risk of course, but I was 
bound to take advantage of the first good day to catch 
the higher hills, with a glimpse of distant ranges in my 
arrangement of color.” 


314 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


"‘Fine profession yours,” hazarded Mr. Horace Thorn- 
ton, casting about in his mind for suitable phrases, as he 
let fall upon the canvas curt glances of approval. He 
was wise enough to know that he was ignorant of art, of 
authoritative knowledge, of artistic possibilities, but he 
could venture this much. 

“Yes — possibly. But with the public and private 
views of wealthy people, a man gets very little chance.” 

“A talent like this should carry things before it,” IVIr. 
Thornton came nearer and touched the canvas with his 
hand. 

“It should, but it does not. A man of talent should 
have many things he does not get — recognition, money, 
travel ” 

“You have done your scene full justice at any rate, it 
seems to me, if I know anything about it. ” 

“I hope you do — but I doubt it. I wish you might 
move the world to think as you do, when it goes on 
exhibition a few weeks hence. 

“Where?” 

“Oh, at the Veerhoff galleries first — then Philadel- 
phia — New York. ” 

“I hope it won’t leave Washington.” The artist 
made note of the prosperous air of the man who spoke, 
and a thought occurred to him. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


315 


'‘I painted the father of a man I know, not long ago — 
when I took the curtain down — the portrait completed — 
he said feelingly, ‘Yes, that’s father.’ But he added, 
‘Oh, how he’s changed.’” The new acquaintances 
laughed together. 

“If I were more of a man, however,” resumed the 
artist, “I should not sit here on this damp ground, daub- 
bing paint with a brush all day. Over yonder, staring 
you in the face, are great bowlders of fine marble. They 
would make a man’s fortune sure.” 

“You don’t tell me so? Who owns it?” Horace 
Thornton was at once interested. It was no story. He 
had heard it a thousand times. It was only a little 
differently told. 

“Some cad, I suppose,” was the answer. “It formerly 
was a part of the Thornleigh estate, and I hear the land 
was reserved by the old lady buried to-day. No doubt 
she mortgaged it.” Something in the manner of his 
listener, caused the artist to regard Mr. Horace Thorn- 
ton more fixedly. He observed for the first time that 
the hat of the stranger was banded with black bom- 
bazine. “Beg pardon,” said he, “I do not gossip, as a 
general thing.” 

“No harm done,” replied Mr. Thornton, lowering his 
voice, as the artist glanced at his brush, upon which the 


316 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


paint was hardening, '‘I’m not traveling for pleasure 
to-day. I’ll get on and let you resume your work. ” 

The keen eyes of the artist had seen beneath the sur- 
face of many things, was used to reading the inner life 
of different subjects — his attention once drawn that way, 
it was not difficult for him to put two and two together. 
"Kelation of the old lady, I guess. Wish he’d set to 
work at the quarries and give me a send off — to Venice.” 
Then he softened his brush, and renewed his touches, 
completing with bold hand what he had begun when 
the earth was full of autumn glory. 

"Jove!” reflected Mr. Horace Thornton, who had been 
started upon an entirely new train of thought, and was 
now on his way to the station to catch the train. There 
would not be any trouble about catching the train, as he 
would find to his cost, and the conductor would be his 
authority for the fact, that the people continued to walk 
the platform and chatter every day in the year, after he 
had sounded the bell vigorously. Some day he would 
leave them behind. But nobody believed this. "Jove!” 
repeated Mr. Thornton, "it looks as if there might be 
something in all this after all. Where there is smoke, 
there must be fire. If it puts Ross on his feet, I shall 
be satisfied.” 

When his train ran into the Sixth Street depot, about 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


317 


ten o’clock the same evening, Mr. Horace Thornton felt 
much worn and wearied with the worry and strain of his 
brief trip to Virginia. Owing to the illness of his 
brother, everything had fallen upon his shoulders. And 
if, to a man immersed for years between city walls, the 
short glimpse of the peaceful country had been a revela- 
tion, all the splash and splatter and conglomerate of 
people and horses and mud, had also been terrible. He 
was sore to the bone. He must see Boss, of course, but 
he must also refresh the inner man, before what might 
prove to be an interview trying to the stoutest nerves. 
He ordered his driver to stop at Page’s, after leaving 
the depot. 

He entered the dining-room and at once joined two 
men over their wine. No one who knew him in this 
way could resent the interruption. He was not only a 
man of mark, but knew how to spend money. One of 
the gentlemen who welcomed him was a well-known 
speculator, the other was a financial promoter. He was 
glad to be taken out of himself and his thoughts even by 
the stock exchange. He told them he was a fortunate 
man to fall in upon agreeable company. They asked 
him about his journey, with certain curiosity as to the 
mineral development of the State. He purposely avoided 
the subject of development for the present^ but after a 


318 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


social glass, he gave them a rather humorous account of 
men and manners as he had encountered them. He was 
a good talker among men when the spirit moved him, 
and after worry of body and mind, which he now lightly 
threw off, he was at his best. 

"'Miles over the Southern Railway,’* said he, "to the 

town of W after changing cars at the junction and 

taking a branch road — the train creeps and jostles into 
the small bustle of a town, non-commercial, purely resi- 
dent — at the station or depot, a few plank sheds, with 
here and there a few more mire-splashed, slow-speaking 
loungers. Young men and old from the country dis- 
tricts, yet invariably superior samples of the old Ameri- 
can stock of English descent — athletic, strong, masterful, 
free of movement from the habit of constant riding, 
horse racing, hunting and shooting — and such horses! 
Why, I saw a gentleman worth at least two hundred 
thousand dollars — a man to the manor born — leading a 
horse through the streets, teaching it paces — through 
pure love of it, and another gentleman born — who teaches 
the free school of the village, ride out on a glorious 
steed, with a groom behind on a magnificent young filly. 
It’s a heaven for horses. After a leisurely jog along the 
country roads one comes into an open country as beauti- 
ful as paradise.” 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


319 


When Mr. Horace Thornton rose to go the two men 
followed his example — the three leaving the restaurant 
in company. The carriage of the first named stood 
before the door. 

^‘Can I take either or both of you gentlemen home?” 
asked he politely. The speculator declined as Mr. 
Thornton had hoped he would do, but the prospector 
replied : 

Thanks, if you can drop me at the Kichmond, Thorn- 
ton. I am expecting a friend who is to reach here to- 
night — president of the Southern Development Com- 
pany.” 

"'On my way. I wonder if you can bring him to see 
me to-morrow? Lots of houses closed,” he added 
hastily, as they drove along the broad avenues and 
streets; "people come back later every year — rents 
reduced, but times hard.” 

"People do not seem to come back a day earlier than 
necessary. ’ ' 

"I suppose you were out the past summer?” asked 
Horace Thornton, in quest of some easy topic. 

"Every chance. How do the poor devils under gov- 
ernment exist, I wonder, with the prescribed leave of 
four weeks ? When I cannot leave business, I go for a 
tramp over the marshes.” 


320 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘‘If the government clerk complained of a month’s 
leave he would not be able to exist for the rest of the 
year. Are you not afraid of malaria in the swamps?” 

“Too much braced up by high air. Colorado is not a 
germ-bed. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Colorado lately ? ’ ’ 

“Mining interests, you know.” 

“I did not intend to open up the subject to-night, but 
it is business in that line upon which I wish to consult 
with you and Johnson to-morrow.” 

“Ah?” 

“I have just left a valuable bed of variegated stone. 
I want to sell outright — stock companies have been dis- 
astrous to these veins — and retain controlling shares. 
It’s a big thing — well handled.” 

“If it’s a good thing I may be of service.” 

“Well, look into it for yourself. Come round to my 
place to-morrow at eleven o’clock. I have the 
specimens. ” 

“All right,” was returned, as the man of business was 
set down at the Kichmond. This was more than IVIr. 
Horace Thornton had hoped to accomplish at once. He 
had spent some tiresome hours after leaving the artist, 
with an old countryman and his pickax, who laboriously 
dug from the earth the rough specimens of marble, that 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


321 


now reposed in his traveling bag. Of all the men l>e 
knew that could assist and advance him in this project, 
the one who just left him was the best and surest. 

Ten days after these occurrences, Roswell Thornton 
was in New York City concluding the final arrangements 
for leaving the United States as a consul to China. Pas- 
sage had been engaged in a ship leaving the harbor that 
afternoon. Horace had favored a brisk trip by way of 
San Francisco or the Canadian Pacific, but Roswell had 
held steadily to his own course, and was to start from 
New York on one of the Cunarders, hence to Liverpool 
via Queenstown, and through the Suez Canal onward to 
the Orient. The judgment of Mr. Horace Thornton had 
been overruled, as was not infrequently the case where 
his brother was concerned. The attachment between 
the two was very real, if backed by reserve. Perhaps the 
affection of Horace for his brother was the stronger of 
the two, having in it something of a mother’s protective 
care and solicitude. His very tone altered when ad- 
dressing Roswell. 

The brothers were looking well, and were well dressed 
— their stiff hats had deep bands of lusterless black 
about them. 

Roswell had not only suffered bitter mortification 
when he came to realize his last state before yielding to 


322 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


physical exhaustion, hut in the satisfaction of having his 
appointment confirmed had suffered also from a sense of 
something v/ithheld. The congratulations of friends 
had been sincere and numerous, but this did not prevent 
his feeling the force of one lacking. For days he tor- 
tured himself with the belief that Mercy, hearing of his 
honorable course for the future would think of him more 
gently, and send to him a few lines of kindness. But 
none came. 

Horace stood by him and strove to divert his mind 
from this subject. He explained his presence in New 
York by the assertion that he could never resist the 
temptation of a day or so in metropolitan circles when 
opportunity offered. It did him good, he said — the 
snatches of busy life to be seen in the elevated trains, 
the crow^ds of pedestrians, the clubs and hotels were so 
far ahead of anything at the sleepy old capital. The 
fascination of 'Wall Street, the ceaseless buzz and hum 
and roar and swarm of life in New York — the general 
hurly-burly v/as exhilarating. It w^as true his natural 
industiy, activity and alertness of understanding re- 
ceived a fresh impetus from the w’^hip and spur of modern 
finance and commerce. But apart from these, it was 
doubtful if he could have won his own consent to permit 
the departure of Boswell, unaccompanied by himself — as 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


323 


far as he could go. An hour or so before the ship was 
to sail, the men came and took away the luggage of Mr. 
Eoswell Thornton. Beside a bundle of canes and an 
umbrella strapped together, a couple of steamer trunks, 
a dress-suit case and some hat boxes, there was a worn 
violin case. In one of the rusty rings was tied a tiny 
bit of black ribbon. Doubtless Jemima had attended to 
this detail. The previous night, when the Washington 
express train had run into Jersey City, and the brothers 
made their way thence by ferry into New York, Horace 
had ordered their things taken to the Hoffman House. 
To his surprise, Eoswell, who had been indifferent and 
silent throughout the brief journey, requested he should 
reconsider and stop at the Holland. 

‘‘The most popular and independent man’s hotel,” 
said he. 

“To the Holland,” directed Mr. Horace Thornton, 
countermanding his order to the man, and saying to his 
brother, “The Waldorf, if you prefer it, Eoss. We 
might as well be comfortable while we are together. 
Since I think of it, there was some talk of tearing down 
the Hoffman to rid it of parasitic dead beats.” 

“The Holland will suit me,” said Eoswell. Horace 
lifted the window separating them from the driver to 
reiterate his order — let it drop and sat back upon the 


324 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


dark green cushions reflecting: see: He does not 

wish to run the risk of meeting his wife at any of the 
other hotels. But she sailed ten days ago.” 

So the day Boswell Thornton was to sail wore around 
to the time of starting. “Plenty of time,” said Boswell, 
suppose we walk a few blocks and then hail a cab.” 

“All right,” said Horace, “only wealthy New Yorkers 
ride in cabs. ” 

As they were walking briskly along, Boswell again 
spoke: “Suppose we drop in and see what the Waldorf 
is like,” said he. 

Horace was striving to be cheerful and would accede 
to anything as Boswell knew. 

Presently they entered the spacious and beautiful halls 
of this magnificent American hostelry, walking from 
room to room with uniform tread. Boswell had not for- 
gotten his intention to consult the registre de visite be- 
fore he left the house. 

As the brothers crossed the floor of one of these 
columned, gilded rooms, suddenly a scene occurred — one 
that might have been avoided had Mr. Horace Thornton 
been master of the situation — had he, in fact, had his usual 
wits about him. First, two gentlemen passed, escorting 
two ladies dressed in black; one was quite large, the 
other tall and slender — the faces of both were covered 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


325 


with veils of black chiffon. Instantly the attention of 
the brothers was attracted. The first impulse that moved 
Koswell was an inclination to glide silently behind the 
nearest column. But Horace, after a moment’s hesita- 
tion, was bowing with the pronounced courtesy of the 
Southerner, and stammering : 

‘‘Why, Cousin Hon — Dr. Lloyd, Mercy — how do you 
do?” 

A man in a long, flapping overcoat had been walking 
beside Mercy. A rose was pinned to the lapel of his 
frock coat, and although his face and even figure gave 
the impression of decline of some sort — it was the face 
of a genius — Carlo Dent — Virginia’s piano virtuoso. As 
Horace recovered himself Koswell came forward. Mercy 
shrank a little, but put her gloved fingers into his. 
The eyes of both men, after the usual greetings and 
explanations as to what had detained them in New York, 
considerately fell away from her to the large and modish 
figure of the doctor’s wife. They noticed, however, that 
Mercy was wearing deep mourning for their mother. 
Mrs. Thurston-Lloyd, well dressed, was not the reverse 
of handsome — her clothes had been selected with the good 
taste of her stepdaughter. Horace, who was not given 
to small talk, acquitted himself well on this trying 


occasion. 


326 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


‘‘Boys, I want you to come to my rooms. I have 
something to show you/’ said the doctor’s wife, with 
insistent precision. 

“Impossible,” replied Horace, coming to the relief of 
Roswell. “You know his passage is taken on the steamer 
just leaving.” 

“My! my!” returned his cousin, her slow mind grasp- 
ing the true state of affairs, “I supposed he was here, of 
course, to spend the last hours with Mercy before she 
goes. Why does he go to that horrible, heathenish place 
at all? Come, Horace, you must exert your influence. 
Spare us what time you have.” 

He consulted his watch. There were full three- 
quarters of an hour to be disposed of. Still the emotions 
at work in the breast of Horace Thornton were of a 
nature conflicting. He wanted Roswell to do the right 
thing, but was as unwilling to part from him as was his 
wealthy cousin. He did not interfere. He was certain 
of one thing — there would be no moral weakening with 
Ross. His weakness was past. His mind was made up. 
Nothing would turn him aside now. 

“Ross,” his cousin begged, “come with me — ^just one 
second.” 

Dr. Lloyd, an elderly man of the class who, after a 
rather fast life, reform, and lose something of the life 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


827 


and geniality which made them agreeable companions, 
had taken no part in these hurried conferences. As 
Carlo Dent withdrew from the side of his daughter, he 
had fallen into place beside her, perhaps wondering at 
the stiffness of the son-in-law, who had always been 
frank and open of manner. The truth was that Mercy 
had not spoken of their altered relations, either to her 
father or to his wife. She was eager to screen him from 
the censure of her own people. This feeling had over- 
powered her despair, which in the silence of the night, 
in large throngs, was ever awake. In the weeks that 
had followed their first estrangement, the young wife 
had persuaded herself that she had been at fault in ex- 
pecting her husband to sacrifice outside companionship 
and pleasure to her, but with the full tide of reaction, 
the knowledge of his weakness, had come a relentless 
conviction that had never left her. He had never loved 
her. Could she ever forget the horror of her last 
sight of the man she had loved? His face blank, his 
beauty marred, his manliness and honor debased? 

As she had followed the footsteps of her father and his 
wife day by day she had found herself scanning the faces 
of strangers, wondering if any heart carried a weight 
equal to her own. Husband and wife, in all classes, 
had been objects of deep interest to her — more so than 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


328 

music which she loved, or art, whose laws were at her 
fingers ends; even nature ,as seen from a luxurious 
brougham in Central Park. Old or young, she had 
regarded all married couples with interest — their atti- 
tude to each other was a subject of conjecture. Yet, at 
this time, at this unexpected meeting with her husband, 
and the pale misery of his face, the strongest feeling of 
which she was conscious was not one of self-pity, but 
one of thankfulness that her world, her father and her 
stepmother could never know the whole sad truth. 

As Mrs. Thurston-Lloyd led the w^ay to her own apart- 
ments she grew urgently eloquent for one of her repose- 
ful speech. 

‘‘My boy,” said she, “next to your dear mother, I 
have loved you. I cannot let you go to China. It is a 
fearful place. No American consul outside of London, 
Liverpool and Paris receives anything worth speaking of. 
You simply must come and go abroad with us. ’ ' 

“Cousin Hon,” said he, “it is not possible.” 

“It is possible. Strange you men love excitement. 
Your wife, even should she join you, can be no compan- 
ion for you in China as society is constituted there. 
And you will come back — if no malignant disease carries 
you off — you will come back with a queue down your 
back and decline to eat with us all.” But her listener 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


329 


did not smile. "‘Will 3"ou give up this av/ful project, 
Eoss?’’ she begged. “Seriously, you may come back, 
but it will be, as I have seen before to-da^", other customs, 
other needs, will have ruptured all family ties — your 
own country — all that is good and true in you will be 
tarnished by contact. A man cannot live upon the 
paltry sum our government pays a consul outside of the 
places I have named and be honest. Mercy will no 
longer have a place in your heart. ’ ' 

“Cousin Honora, ” replied the young man, vibrating 
between desperation and despair, “do not say another 
word. I would do anything I could to please you, but 
go I must.’’ 

Then he told her how he stood. 

Vexation of spirit was at once supplanted by genuine 
distress — but suddenly she grew bustling, almost 
cheerful. 

“Order something,*’ said she to her husband, “some- 
thing at once — the boys have but a moment more.” 

With fat, trembling hands she began to fumble with 
the strings of two large packages in paper that lay upon 
the table. Mercy, who had stood by quietly speaking 
with Horace, hastened to her assistance, and cut the 
cords apart with a pair of scissors. 

“Here are some books for you, Horace; but you will be 


330 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


coming back to us — I want Eoss to have his present, * ’ 
said Mrs. Thurston-Lloyd, as she lifted carefully and 
with panting breath a handsome violin case from the 
paper box to the table. Mercy, in the black gown, which 
heightened the pallor of her face, stood by helpless and 
desperate as her eyes fell upon the initials of her hus- 
band’s name in letters of gold on the case of rosewood. 
Then was exposed and extracted from the satin pile a 
wonderfully beautiful instrument. 

‘^Once,” plead his cousin foolishly, ‘'draw the bow 
across the strings. I knew what you loved, my boy. 
Play one of the old sweet tunes that your mother loved.” 

“I simply cannot,” thought Koswell. “I have for- 
gotten,” said he. 

Then, as standing he tilted the violin under his chin 
for an instant and softly drew the bow across its face, 
over the trembling strings, strange, sweet, sounds vibra- 
ted through the room tender chords that quivered and 
were lost in beating hearts. Each person dropped 
naturally into place. Dr. Lloyd sat on a couch facing 
Horace and his Cousin Honora, while Mercy was 
in a chair near the table toward which, as he played, 
her husband slightly leaned. Her artistic nature made 
her keenly susceptible to any divine strain, and as the 
music floated to them, regretful, impassioned, she leaned 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


331 


to him with bowed head, that she might not lose one note. 
The violin was speaking the words of the dear old song, 
so well known to her and to him. 

‘‘ The shadow of the morrow 
Is stealing o’er my heart, 

And a voice of wildest sorrow— ” 

But when came the strains of Sullivan’s "‘Bid Me at 
Least Good-by,” which they had so often sung 
together, she thought her heart would burst. Some- 
thing half a laugh, half a cry of anguish escaped her. 
Their eyes met. She forgot everything as she 
bent forward, listening intently. The face of Boswell 
Thornton was white to the lips. His soul was full of 
deep feeling. He leaned close to her, he hardly knew 
what he was playing, some appeal to a God of Pity and 
to her. The music that thrilled the room enthralled 
each listener separately in its sad intensity — the eyes of 
each had tears in them. The hands of Boswell shook so 
that he could not replace the instrument in the case. 
Horace stepped forward, replaced the violin, and pulling 
out a bunch of cigarettes he handed them indiscrimi- 
nately to Dr. Lloyd, to his brother, to the ladies each, in 
great perturbation of mind. 

“We must go,” said he, in his curt phraseology, 
gathering up a top coat. And after a glass of wine, much 


332 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


after the manner of other farewells these were made — a 
few careless words, a pleasant wish or so by those less 
moved, a final grasp of the hand by those in whom deep 
emotion stirred, and Dr. and Mrs. Lloyd and Merc^^ 
were left standing alone in the middle of the room. But 
if Mercy Thornton had wished her husband no audible 
Godspeed, her lips had framed a passionate prayer. 
Through bitter suffering she had returned to divine alle- 
giance. Intercession, prayer, supplication to God for 
strength and courage, was the one solace of her saddened 
life. 

As Horace and Boswell Thornton drove rapidly 
through the crush and squalor downtown to the wharf, 
the voice of Boswell, who strove to steady speech, 
reached the ear of his brother. “Cousin Hon must not 
know,” said he, “but do you mind — you remember the 
little rascal Leo, who loves music so — take him this,” 
touching the violin case, “and tell him to keep and use 
it until I call for it.” 

“Of course, of course,” answered Horace; “but it 
seems to me you put a lot of confidence in a ragamuffin. ’ ’ 
Then he braced himself and did all the talking. “There 
is not a chance of it, I suppose, but if your celestials 
get into another snarl — send for me. I should like to 
help organize. I saw next to nothing of our Civil War, 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


0'>0 

you know, except what you and I, as boys, spied from 
the fence tops — when the fences and haystacks were all 
gone, we mounted the nearest roof. I remember when 

General F came back to America from Egypt, he 

had been decorated by the khedive for gallant services, 
and looked as handsome as a prince in full regalia.*' 
Horace cast a look of pardonable pride upon his strong 
nether limbs and portly person, fancying, no doubt, how 
fine he would appear decorated with insignia from top to 
toe. Eoswell was calm and quiet ; but Horace, who had 
been laboring under suppressed excitement all day, grew 
even more fidgety as they drew near the pier. ‘‘Gain 
the confidence and respect of the Chinese premier,’* said 
he, “I expect to hear of you as the most popular of all 
the foreign representatives at the Imperial Court. Grant 
said Li Hung Chang was a great statesman. Get to 
know him — he has an high opinion of us. Take what 
Cousin Hon said to you with a grain of salt. We are not 
under civil service, but that will soon come — as consuls, 
I mean. Do not think you have no incitement to make 
a close study of the politics, manners, alliances, and com- 
mercial necessities of the people — make clear and concise 
statements of these in your reports to the government. 
It will strengthen you right along. In time all promo- 
tion will be based on merit, and all removals will have 


334 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


to be determined by a board of the State Department, 
and approved by the president. But be honest with me, 
boy. If you cannot stand it, let me know. In the 
meantime your interests in this country are mine. If 
anything good turns up for you, I will cable at once — 
be sure of it. ’ ’ 

They left the cab, and after attending to the luggage, 
moved along the passageway to the gangplank. They 
stood together a moment behind the onlookers assem- 
bled, gazing at the thronging decks of the steamer. 

''It’s well you speak French. Study Chinese — begin 
at once, not only the vernacular, or everyday speech of 
the people, but the court language as well.” 

Boswell stood silent. Behind the one offense of this 
man was a lifetime of love and tenderness for his wife, 
for the woman from whom he was now forever parted — 
his heart was full of her — to-morrow he would take his 
place in the world and assume its duties in a manly 
spirit, but this remnant of to-day was his — to sorrow. 
The name of his wife had not been mentioned between 
the brothers ; until it was, his heart would never open 
freely to the man who stood by him, unhappy at parting, 
anxious to see him go, eager to keep him near. 

The passengers were beginning to congregate behind 
the rail, to wave the usual good-by to friends on shore. 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 


335 


^ ‘'God knows, Eoss, ” said his brother suddenly, “I 

\ 

cannot bear this. ’ ’ 

t Koswell smiled sadly, and Horace, all at once struck 
with the hollowmess of it, went on, “Don’t think I am 
hal'd on Mercy. I am as certain as the stars shine, 
Mercy will be true to you.” 

Then, Eoswell Thornton, choking with emotion, 
grasped and wrung the hand of his brother. “Write,” 
said he, “your letters will be my only hold upon civili- 
zation. ” 

As the Etruria prepared to recede, Horace Thorn- 
ton w^as shoved along down the gangv/ay, and stood 
with all the crowd, staring stupidly up at the thronged 
ship. At first he could not make out the tall, slender 
figure of Eoswell, his eyes Avere so blinded by tears. 

A moment more and the gangplank was withdrawn — 
the mail sacks Avere hoisted on board — while the passen- 
gers on deck were waving Avild adieux, the last longshore- 
man scrambled dowm the ladder bridge, the steamer 
Etruria cast off from the crowded Avharf, and sailed 
splendidly doAvn stream, bearing EosA\’ell Thornton on his 
Avay as a consul to China. 

And what thoughts were uppermost in the heart of 
EosAvell Thornton as he leaned over the buhvarks of the 
fast receding ship? Was he an exile — an outcast? 


336 


A CONSUL TO CHINA. 




Could he bear to close the last page in the sweetest 
chapter of his life? 

As his brother, Horace Thornton, stood below, with 
eyes strained to see, watching him — what, whom, 'was it 
he saw steal step by step toward Eoswell — until he could 
distinguish distinctly the outline of the face and figure 
of a beautiful woman, a woman young, with hair of pale 
gold, and a clear, strong face, serene, Madonna-like — 
until he could make out two figures side by side, two 
hands clasped together upon the bulwarks. 

‘'Heaven bless her,’’ said he, convinced; “his angel 
— Mercy.” 

‘ ‘ Good-b3’^ ! Good-by ! God bless you both. ’ ’ 

Then Horace Thornton turned upon his heel. 


THE EHB. 


Petronilia, the Sister. 

By Emma Homan Thayer. 

Cloth, $1.25. 


Mrs. Thayer’s art books have made for her a 
world- wide reputation as a writer, and an illustra- 
tor of the wildflowers of America. ‘ ‘ Petronilia ” 
is her first novel, and we can honestly recommend 
it as a most delightful story indeed. The gifted 
writer paints human loves and vanities with much 
the same dexterity she has exhibited as an artist in 
delineating the delicate hues of the modest wild- 
flowers she so fondly worships. We take pleasure 
in recommending so chaste and interesting a story 
to the public. In this day of erotic literature such 
a book is doubly welcome, and “Petronilia” is of 
such a character as to hold the reader’s attention to 
the last page. The scenes are laid in New York 
City, with a bright and spicy visit on a ranch in the 
mountains of Colorado, a region in which the writer 
is evidently at home. The illustrations, some forty 
in number, partly by the author, and ably abetted 
by the well-known artist. Remington W. Lane, add 
piquancy to the letterpress. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 
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A Panorama of American 
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Neely’s New Reversible Historical Chart. 

POLITICAL AND UNITED 
STATES MAP COMBINED. 


Chronological Discoveries, Explorations, Inventions and Important Events. 
A Brief History of the World’s Columbian Exposition. Area and Population of 
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Better than an Encyclopedia. Printed in six Beautiful Colors, 

THE ONLY CENSUS PUBLISHED. 

A Double Wall Map, 6 feet 6 Inches by 3 feet 10 inches, mounted on 
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A Complete History of Our Govern men t by Administrations, Political 
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The latest United States Map, printed in colors, covers the entire back, and 
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THIS GREAT DOUBLE MAP is sent by express, prepaid, and safe deliv- 
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$6 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth , 4 venue. New York. 


Father Stafford. 

By 

ANTHONY HOPE. 

The Most Hemarkahle of Mr. Hope^s Stories. 

Neely’s Prismatic Library. 

Gilt Top, 50 cents. 


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a bold privateer venturing upon the high seas.” 

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which are the conflict between love and conscience on the part of a young AnglL 
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which is as finely finished as any of Hope’s novels.” 

Nashville Banner : — “ ‘ Father Stafford ’ is a charming story. The whole 
book sustains the reputation that Anthony Hope has made, and adds another 
proof that as a portrayer of character of sharp distinctness and individuality hcs 
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work has a quality of straightforwardness that recommends it to readers who 
have grown tired oi the loaded novel.” 

Phillipsburgh Journ.\l:— “ This is considered by his critics to be one of 
the strongest, most beautiful and interesting novels INIr. Hope has ever written. 
There is not a dull line in the entire volume.” 

Vanity, New York A very interesting narrative, and Mr. Hope tells 
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... It contains an admirable description of English country life and is well 
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I 


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Songs from the Wings. 

By MINNIE GILMORE. 

Cloth, $1.35. 

No American recalls the name of Gilmore without a 
throb of the heart at the m^emory of the genial band- 
master, Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore. Phe strains of martial 
music which so often gave delight to thousands under 
the magnetic sway of the leading bandmaster of the age are 
revived in the rhythmic lines of the daughter in her book 
of verses, entitled Songs from the Wings.” 

The genius that swayed the baton of the father has 
certainly descended to the daughter, and finds expression 
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regret the possession of this book of poems. They are 
inspirational. They ring true. They are the work of a 
genius, painstaking, sincere, earnest and intellectual. 
For reading aloud they are especially desirable, full as 
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be said in praise of Miss Gilmore’s literary work. The 
gentleman to whom the manuscripts of her novels were 
submitted says : 

“During five years I have examined thousands of 
stories by American and English writers. I consider 
Miss Gilmore’s keen insight into human nature and her 
facility for forceful and poetic expression superior to that 
of any writer now before the public. Her imagination 
is superb. Her diction elegant. Her rhetoric masterful. 
Her thoughts sublime. No writer of our time writes 
more evidently from genuine inspiration.” 

A limited edition of these dramatic poems “ Songs 
from the Wings ” has been exquisitely bound, numbered 
and signed for those who wish to be known as contribut- 
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young author. The poems are printed from new, clear- 
faced type, in an attractive page with wide margins, gilt 
top, rough edges and bound in exquisite style. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of pric<*^ 

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One of Eartli^s Daughters* 

By ELLEN ROBERTS. 

Neely’s Popular Library. 

Paper, 25 c. 

There have been books which secured a 
tremendous sale through the bitter attack of 
newspaper critics; while others succeeded 
through the host of favorable comments that 
greeted their appearance in the arena of public 
estimation. Faint praise accomplishes nothing 
— indeed, it is never deserved. The verdict 
of these experienced critics has been unusually 
favorable toward “ One of Earth’s Daughters,” 
and we feel justified in offering it to our 
patrons as a story well worth reading, which 
cannot be said of all the novels launched upon 
the public these days by enterprising publishers. 
It is a genuine pleasure to come across a book 
so carefully and conscientiously written, and in 
which the characters fulfil their destinies. A 
vein of love drifting through the whole fabric 
leavens it without any erotic tendencies. Taken 
in all, “ One of Earth’s Daughters” is a very read* 
able little volume, and shows commendable dis- 
cernment on the part of the publisher. The 
world is always better for such moral books. 


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The King in Yellow, 

By 

Robert W. Chambers. 

Author of “ In the Quarter.*' 

Neely’s Prismatic Library. 

Gilt Top, 50 Cents. 

This book has evidently crested an astonishing amount of enthusiasm among 
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has been heard, coupling the gifted autlior’s name with that of Edgar Allan Poe, 
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charm the reading x>ublic, ever eager to seize on that which borders upon the h - 
zxr e. The odd and attractive cover appeals to the curiosity of the reader, and 
once he has dipped into the contents he finds a feast spread before him that awak- 
ens a desire for fuidher intercourse with the same fertile pen. 

Edward Ellis ; — “ The author is a genius without a living equal, so far as 
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portions several times, captivated by the unapproachable tints of the painting. 
None but a genius of the highest order could do such work.” 

N. Y. Commerci al Advertiser : — “ The short prose tale should be a syn- 
thesis ; it was the art of Edijar Poe, it is the art of Mr. Chambers. . . , His is 
beyond question a glorious neritage. ... I fancy the book will create a sen- 
sation ; ... in any case it is the most notable contribution to literature which 
has come from an American publisher for many years ; and fine as the accom- 
plishment is, ‘ The King in Yellow ’ is large in promise. One has a right to ex- 
pect a great deal from an author of this calibre.” 

Times Herald “ The most eccentric little volume of its (little) day 
* The King in Yellow ’ is subtly fascinating, and compels attention for its style, 
and its wealth of strange, imaginative force.” 

New York Times : — “ Mr. Robert W. Chambers does not have a system to 
work up to ; he has no fad, save a tendency to write about the marvelous and the 
impossible. ; painting pictures of romance that have a wild inspiration about them. 
Descriptive powers of no mean quality are perceptible in this volume of stories.” 

, The N. Y. World “ Mr. Chambers has a great command of words : he is 
a good painter. His situations are most delicately touched, and some of his de- 
scriptions are exquisite. He writes like an artist. He uses colors rather than 
ideas. . . . The best drama in the volume means madness. The tenderest 
fancy is a sad mirage. . . . ‘ The King in Yellow ’ is a very interesting con- 
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HOW TO LIVE. 
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Observations of a Bachelor. 

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